UNSC Army's Light Cavalry
by Saber 6 Actual
Summary: The story of the UNSC Army's Light Cavalry. Beginning with the Insurgency in the Outer Colonies and fighting through the Human-Covenant War.
1. UNSC Army's Light Cavalry  Prologue

Prologue.

Everyone in the UNSC is aware that the Human-Covenant War isn't going too well for the human side. The people in the outer colonies were the first, followed by those in the farther inner colonies. These people know better than anyone. Having your family and neighbors slaughtered wholesale right in front of you by a merciless enemy and then having said merciless enemy turn your planet into molten glass right under your feet while you are racing for orbit and a UNSC evacuation to a planet closer to Earth that you _hope_ won't be the next stop on the Covenant juggernaut through human territory gives you a unique perspective on just how badly we are doing. A perspective shared in totality only by the men and women of the UNSC dying everywhere around you, trying to give you the _chance_ to escape.

During this conflict that has raged across star systems for the last twenty five years, the United Nations Space Command Defense Forces have taken incalculable losses. The UNSC Marines and Navy have been the hardest hit; they have comprised the majority of combatants on the front lines attempting to stall the Covenant's advance. Facing severely depleted manpower, HIGHCOM began taking steps to more fully integrate the UNSC Army and Air Force into this conflict.

During normal times, Marine ODSTs were the premier rapid reaction forces of the UNSC with contingents assigned to Navy vessels on patrol. The Army and Air Force were normally assigned ground based defense roles, protecting the larger colonies from Covenant ground incursions.

ODSTs are normally backed up by larger Marine elements. Given the ODST/Marine loss rate, their role is now being backfilled by rapid deployable Army units with Air Force aviators taking on roles traditionally filled by Marine and Navy aviation units.

UNSC Army and Air Force Special Forces have already been mobilized, including the entirety of the 75th Ranger Regiment, 82nd and 101st Airborne and Air Assault (respectively) Divisions as back up for the SF units.

About two years ago, with the threat of extinction at the hands of the Covenant growing more real after every engagement, HIGHCOM realized they were going to have to start retasking the remaining Army and Air Force units that were still mission capable, breaking them down into more mobile and rapidly deployable combat units, supplying them with the same tier equipment that the previous units were equipped with, and giving the Air Force their own ability to get these units to the front.

Flush with funding for advanced training, rapid re-equipping and rearmament, UNICOM (Unified Ground Command) evaluated their assets available and after the retasking and deployment of their current Special Operations capable assets, they identified, reorganized, re-equipped, and retasked the next most viable unit to take on rapid deployable, high risk, and high priority missions.

The UNSC turned to the historically elite, they turned to the Cavalry.

This is their story.


	2. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 1 UNSC CSPD

UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 1

2523 MAY 25

UNSC Combined Service Personnel Depot

Atlanta, Georgia, Earth

I am not going to bore you unnecessarily with the recounting of my two years of training. My name is Jack Storm, a private in the UNSC Army, Cavalry, I am 20 years old. I graduated from Advanced Training on Earth 100 hours ago. The modern UNSC Cavalry (Light) is an extremely effective and well trained tool for the UNSC. We are given the most advanced training in all of the regular forces of the UNSC, Marines included.

Our training, as I already said, is two years long. First of course is Basic Combat Training (two months), Advanced Combat Training (twelve months, advanced combat training and tactics, urban warfare, advanced weapons training, advanced ground vehicle use and employment, advanced air mobility operations, long range and urban reconnaissance training, SERE school, and intermediate Explosive Ordinance Employment and Disposal).

After that rather "enlightening" experience came basic flight assessment. Those who could be taught to fly stayed, those that couldn't were graduated and sent to any of dozens of garrisons across UN controlled space. I passed basic flight assessment and spent the next eight months in flight training. At the end I was a qualified basic pilot on the AV-14 Hornet, UH-144 Falcon, and the D77H-TCI Pelican. They also gave us orientation training on the AC-220 Vulture, GA-TL1 Longsword, and the Shortsword. By orientation training, our instructors stated that we could get it off the ground and then promptly damage or destroy expensive UNSC equipment when trying to land it, never mind doing anything useful with it.

The last two months were spent at the Advanced Search and Rescue course where we learned the finer points of cutting pilots out of downed aircraft, how to track and recover missing personnel in five different environments, and enhanced battlefield trauma treatment and stabilization. We weren't medics, nor we're we UNSC Air Force Pararescue, we were somewhere in the middle.

The overall intent of imbuing us with all of these skills and training is an attempt by UNSC HIGHCOM & ARCOM to develop and deploy a self-contained, self-sufficient force capable of a multi-mission role independent of specialized assets or support.

Has this extensive investment in time and training paid off for the UNSC? No one is sure yet, we have only been deployed in limited roles in the fight against the insurrection taking place in the Outer Colonies. Recent developments indicate that the insurrectionists are getting desperate for a significant victory in their struggle against the UEG and UNSC, the men and women of the new UNSC Cavalry (Light) are ready to meet the challenge.

The conclusion of two years of training saw me promoted from Private to Sergeant. After graduation, my class (all 27 of us that made it all the way to the end) were given a 96 hour liberty pass with orders to report to the Atlanta Combined Service Personnel Depot for our rides starside, onto a UNSC Navy transport and then off to wherever.

That morning (yes, I am skipping the rather sordid details of my 96 hour liberty (needless to say there was plenty of vodka, music, and all three of them were blonde, buxom beauties), only 20 of our 27 graduating members showed at Atlanta. There was no word, no notice, and no one had heard from the seven, they were just gone. Later we would find out that two, Will Roberts and John Friedan died in a head on drunk driving collision, what really pissed us off was that they were the sober ones, but the drunk driver got his, he bled out on the side of the interstate, nobody seemed willing to help him, even amid is pain stricken, languid cries for help and for mercy. There was nothing official logged on the other five. They were declared AWOL, warrants issued for their arrest.

Twenty of us checked in and went through to the debarkation holding area. The debarkation holding area and the Combined Service Personnel Depot, fancy UNSC speak for military transit airport. The "airport" was quite large actually. Passenger terminals, cargo terminals, and everything from Pelicans to Frigates were docked there, of course, sprinkle in some Albatross I's and II's, a few Longswords and Shortswords and there you have it. There were even a couple of Colonial Administration Authority Colony Transports at the far end of the landing field. At any given time, there was more air traffic here than anywhere else on Earth.

If you looked out the terminal window you could see all manner of activity, just like at a civilian airport, fuel trucks, septic trucks, forklifts with palletized baggage being loaded into craft, personnel transports dropping off flight crew and pilots. The only thing missing were the really fast little vehicles with the follow me signs and the blinking lights. There were still ground guides on the tarmac with the cone tipped flashlights and bright yellow vests guiding the various craft into their parking spaces.

Personnel movement was handled much like a civilian airport. You show up, check your bags, check in, receive a boarding pass, get searched half a dozen times…and then half a dozen times again (yes, the TSA is still alive in the 24th century) and then you go to your gate, await boarding and then you are off to wherever it is that the UNSC has determined you would be of the most use.

All 20 of us, just having graduated from training, were only burdened with one duffle bag each, honestly, we didn't need anything else. So there we were, 20 brand new UNSC Cav Troopers, standing in a perfectly straight line waiting to check in. Everyone had their duffle bags on the floor at their left side by their feet. UNSC regulations required us to show up in Class A uniforms. Of course none of us had seen any wars, any campaigns, or any operations so there wasn't much to look at on our uniforms…except that we were all in uniform. Sore thumb. Everyone else we saw in the terminal was either in their Class B's or Class C's (standard duty uniform…you know…fatigues, camouflage, etc.)

All of twenty of us were on our way to Reach for further redeployment so it was no surprise when, after checking in and what seemed like full body cavity searches, we were all at the same gate. We mostly stayed to ourselves, our group in one corner occupying the benches. There were about 70 other UNSC personnel at our gate, looks like it is going to be a full flight. Generally the only time other UNSC personnel have for recent graduates was, well a hard time. Thankfully, the wait for the transport to orbit was only 30 minutes.

"Private Storm! On your feet", a booming voice that made me and several other in our group come to a heightened state of alertness, you know, like when you are trying to sneak up on your mother's cat and it's ears perk up, accompanied by a very familiar set of boots thudding across the polished tile floor of the waiting area. Yes, I remember the sound of how my Basic Combat Training drill sergeant walks. A chill went down my spine, quite involuntarily I went from sitting with three other classmates, talking about something having to do with me, extreme drunkenness, and passing out standing up in a stall in the women's bathroom in some bar (and apparently I was also singing)to standing ramrod straight at attention, eyes locked on some arbitrary point across the waiting room, chin parallel to the floor, fingers folded under with my thumbs perfectly running along the outside seam of my uniform pants.

"Private Storm, do you remember what I said to your class the day you graduated?" The Drill Sergeant, one Staff Sergeant Robbins, who seemed to hate even his own mother, approached from my right flank (yes flank, he enjoyed posturing as our "enemy"), seemed to hate me even more than the rest, I have no idea why...maybe it was repressed homosexuality. Who the hell knows?

"Good afternoon, Staff Sergeant. Yes, you informed Third Platoon, Delta Troop, Fifth Squadron, Fifteenth Cavalry Regiment that if you ever saw any of us again, you would have irrefutable proof that the Lord our God, Jesus our Savior, and the Blessed Mother Mary hated you and wished to torment you for all eternity in the most degrading of ways."

SSG Roth continued to make his way over to my position in the debarkation area. I caught him in right peripherals

"That is correct, Private...now what in hell is a useless, no load, puss nut, de..gen...errrrr", SSG. Robbins began to stutter and his voice trailed off to silence as he rounded from my right flank and got a good look at me in full dress uniform. "Well I'll be dipped in shit and rolled in breadcrumbs. All four phases of basic and advanced training, oh what do we have here?"', the arsehole was eyeing my marksmanship qualification badges. Expert level, with all those annoying little bars that hang under the main badge on these little fracking rings that you have to put on yourself...the only difference was that mine had little fracking bars for every single weapon series qualified on during my training. Next to that were my flight wings, again with annoying little bars under it.

"Well excuse the shit out of me maggot. I mean, Sergeant, expert marksman and basic flight rook maggot. You think all that shite on your chest means a damn thing? You are still a worthless excuse of a soldier, Storm" SSG. Robbins was now about five inches from the right side of my head, I swear this psycho was drooling. "What do you have to say for yourself? Hummm? Maggot?"

Like I said, flaming, unrealized, suppressed for a lifetime, probably beaten by his daddy for playing with dolls and liking pink, repressed homosexual. Not that there is anything wrong with being a homosexual, just be true to who you are and don't try to be something you are not.

"Staff Sergeant Robbins", I said, slightly pivoting right and locking eyes, the vein that runs up the middle of my forehead was bulging, "I think you should get the frack off my damn flank", I set my jaw, pursed my lips and looked at him dead in the eye with my, as he described them on day three of basic combat training as 'Dead lifeless eyes'. Something changed in me over the last two years, for some reason I just wasn't interested in taking _anyone's _shit anymore, even that from a superior ranking UNSC Army types. Those "dead, lifeless eyes" turned into 'shut the hell up before I rip out your eyes and skull frack you' eyes, cold, lethal, unforgiving.

This guy was a complete tool after all.

"Well I'll be...I think someone went and made a killer out of you yet, Sergeant. I'll be keeping my eye on you, boy", (of course he drew out the enunciation of the word 'boy' in a very southern manner, you know, the one used by black angry at my daddy because he said I couldn't go into the ballet with the girl from next door who was in fact my half-sister because my daddy could keep it in his pants and knocked her mom up people. Thankfully, SSG. Robbins was done with his tirade, spun about and walked off.

Two of the three other Cav Troopers that were sitting with me stood up, "Who the hell is that guy?", Tom Dalton, cattle rancher from one of the outer colonies. Tom's family's ranch went bust a few years ago. His dad drank himself to death, his mom cremated dad, put him in a coffee can, told Tom to take care of Harmony his younger sister, and got on the first thing back to Harvest. Tom was left holding all the cards, and it was a poor deck. Tom stuck it out for two more years until Harmony was 18. The both enlisted the day after her birthday. Harmony ended up in the Navy and Tom, well he was standing right next to me getting ready to head out to the farthest outer colony.

"Seriously, what a fracking asshole!", Naomi Campbell, five foot eight inches of blonde, "if you look at me the wrong way my five brothers will beat the crap out of you after I kick you in the balls so hard you can roll them around in your mouth like a pair of gumballs", genuine southern belle, complete with southern twang. Honestly, the things we have heard come out of her mouth over the last eight months made some of us wonder who really wore the pants between her and her five brothers.

I turned to Tom and Naomi, "That was Staff Sergeant Ruiz Robbins. The lead Drill Sergeant from my basic combat training class, I think his mother hated him, in fact, we were reasonably sure that even their family dog hated him."

"Yeah, no shit, I can see why." Tom agreed.

The third, the one that stayed sitting was Dale Hawkins. Probably the most non-excitable guy you could ever meet. He was in full dress uniform like the rest of us, but he was reclined back, taking up two seats, 3/4 asleep and still intoxicated enough that the fumes coming off of him were probably flammable. Nobody knew much about Dale. His father and his two older brothers were UNSC Marine ODSTs, why he didn't follow...well I have no idea. But people like us always have good reasons for making the decisions we do. Regardless, Dale was the best pilot out of all of us, in the middle of basic flight he was approached with an offer to go to full flight school with immediate promotion to Warrant Officer. Dale turned it down, multiple times in fact. He said he liked having his feet on the ground too much.

Over the intercom speakers in our gate area came a 'ding dong' followed by "Attention in the terminal, all passengers for Flight 42, please prepare to board." As it happens in the average airport, everyone stood up and began collecting their things. "At this time we would like to start pre-boarding…" yadda yadda, if you have heard it once you have heard it a hundred times. "All passengers with boarding pass numbers ending in zero zero four two, please report to the gate now."

I looked at my boarding pass and sure enough the serial number ended in zero zero four two. Oddly enough, so did Dale, Naomi, and Tom and the other sixteen Cav Troopers. We all lined up at the gate, got checked through and all twenty of us went down the ramp and onto the tarmac, led by a UNSC Air Force Airman. We headed away from the terminal single file towards the ramp of a waiting Pelican.


	3. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 2 Diego Garcia ODP

UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 2

2523 MAY 25, 0900 hrs.

Orbital Defense Platform

Diego Garcia Station

Earth Orbit

I looked at my boarding pass and sure enough the serial number ended in zero zero four two. Oddly enough, so did Dale, Naomi, and Tom and the other sixteen Cav Troopers. We all lined up at the gate, got checked through and all twenty of us went down the ramp and onto the tarmac, led by a UNSC Air Force Airman. We headed away from the terminal single file towards the ramp of a waiting Pelican.

The ride up from Earth was quite uneventful and took about 30 minutes. Ten minutes to a leisurely low orbit and another twenty to dock at station. I was sitting towards the cockpit of the Pelican and noticed that quite strangely, we weren't headed towards Geneva Station, the main orbital defense platform/terminal UNSC Navy and Air Force vessels pull in to when arriving at Earth. Looking out the port side viewport it appeared that were….yep….over Africa and heading east.

"Nigel?...NIGEL!" I kicked the bottom rail of Nigel's cargo seat on the port side of the Pelican. Nigel, great trooper, crack shot with the SRS-99D, and quite adept at making something out of nothing and having that something explode. The problem with Nigel Hawthorne is that if he sits still too long while not behind the scope of his sniper rifle, he would fall asleep. During basic flight we were in the middle of Pelican Transition, flying through a hurricane off of Cuba. Almost all ten of us in the back of the Pelican were puking our guts out, Nigel was sleeping the sleep of the dead. The guy could sleep anywhere, and often did.

"WHAT!" And Nigel didn't like being woken up for anything except chow and his turn on the firing line. "Jack, damn man, what the frak do you want?"

"Hey man, what platform we headed to?" Nigel knew more about the orbital defense platforms and where they were than any of us. In high school he was in the astronomy club, he mapped all of the ODPs for his senior year project. Sounds simple right? He mapped them all down to 20 square meters of their actual position in space even though he could only see the ones visible from Montana. Yeah, math whiz. Geometry, Trigonometry, Calculus, and a splash of Astro Physics. Why he wasn't navigating a cruiser in the Navy or the Air Force, I have no idea.

Nigel turned around in his seat, looked at our relative position, rolled back around and answered, "Looks like we are headed to Diego Garcia Station, UNSC HIGHCOM SPECWARCOM Rapid Rearmament and Deployment Station. By the looks of it we are ten minutes out."

Sure enough, nine minutes and thirty seconds later our Pelican was cycling through the airlock into the hangar bay. The Pelican settled down on the deck, the pilot powered down the engines and came aft, leaving post flight checklists to the co-pilot.

"ON YOUR FEET! I SAID ON YOUR FEET!", the pilot, a she-pilot, kicked Nigel's seat again, right where I kicked it, not ten minutes after I kicked it. Needless to say, Nigel wasn't happy. "I want you Army types off my Pelican in twenty seconds!', she hit the pressure release, the Pelican equalized with the docking bay and the ramp lowered (with that really cool sounding hydraulic-metallic whine that is in all badass futuristic movies) to the deck with a solid sounding thud. We all got unbuckled from the sling seats, stood and lined up to single filing out of the Pelican.

"Who is the senior soldier here?" It was Ms. Lt. Navy Pelican Pilot that apparently didn't like the idea of contaminating her Pelican with Army stench any longer than necessary.

Everyone looked around for a second and then all eyes ended up on me, even though there were three other Sergeants (E-5s, that is three chevrons up for those of you who don't know) on the bird.

"That would be me, Ma'am" I stepped out of line and approached Ms. Lt. Navy.

"Well take command of your troops Sergeant!, and get them off my pelican. Head to loading bay three."

"Loading bay three, yes Ma'am," I saluted, walked to the end of the ramp, looked left, looked right, spotted bay three, and about faced, "Troopers!, at the quick time, forward…march." Nineteen more Cav Troopers marched out of the back of the Pelican, heads high and backs straight. After all, we were in NAVSPECWAR land, ODSTs and Marines were everywhere, loading Pelicans with cargo crates and guiding wheeled and tracked vehicles into Albatross heavy lift transports. Everyone stopped to look at the UNSC Army types. "Look" was putting it kindly, glares of disgust and incredulity were a more apt description of the looks on their faces, sheep (at least they thought so) in the lion's den.

The door to loading bay three was open and a pallet of duffle bags were in the middle of the room, a podium with the UNSC Army logo at the far end next to a man sized door (which in coming days we would all learn, some quite painfully, that on anything that belonged to the Navy or Marines, it was called a "Hatch", the UEG flag in the middle, UNSC Army to the right, and UNSC Army Cavalry to the left (UNSC Defense Forces logo with crossed sabers underneath). As soon as the formation was fully inside the bay, the fifteen foot tall, two feet thick doors closed, there was no one else inside the bay with us. The hair on the back of my neck stood up…we were being watched.

We were alone in the bay. I walked to the front of the two rank formation. "Alright, since I was "nominated" as our "Leader" back in the Pelican, There are twenty of us in total. Four sergeants, sixteen lower enlisted. We are going to break down into four squads. Hawkins, Hawthorne, Campbell, and Dalton; you are with me. Sergeants Wilson, Thomas, and Lake, pick your squads. Wilson, you are second squad; Thomas, third; and Lake, fourth. Second and fourth squads, break down this pallet." At the back of the loading pay I spotted the latrine, of course, again, as we would all learn it wasn't a latrine in the Navy, it was a head. Why, again, I have no idea. "When your name is called, double time up here, grab your duffel and fall out to the latrine located behind the formation and change into your BDUs, get your Class A's stowed and back in formation. You have…" I glanced at my Suunto wrist chronometer, another badass thing to survive until the 24th century, the TSA, and Suunto watches, "ten minutes, move out!"

When I was issuing my orders, the other squad leaders had begun silently pulling their people to the side, forming up their squads. By the time I was finished, four squads had formed in ranks, second and fourth squad leaders each detailed two troopers to break down the pallet. The four troopers got the cargo net off; each grabbed a OD green duffel bag with last, first, and service number stenciled on it, and called out the name. The owner double timed up to the front, grabbed their duffel, and double timed it to the "head". Within the allotted ten minutes the formation was reformed, all troopers in BDUs, at attention, with all duffel bags to the left of the owner.

I inspected the "platoon" from my post at the front of the formation. We were all green, two years of hardcore training was evident in the way we looked, the way we carried ourselves. However; no amount of training is a good substitute for actual combat experience. The training helps, of course. Intel, even the watered down intel trainees have access to indicates that the insurgency against UEG and UNSC is gaining momentum, undoubtedly we would soon learn what it is like then the person holding the weapon pointed at you isn't a drill instructor, or if those red strobing blips in a Hornet's HUD flying at you aren't simulated.

Five minutes of waiting in formation I gave "At ease" to the platoon, everyone relaxed from the position of attention, yet stayed in formation. I walked up to the podium to have a look, maybe some indication of what we were supposed to do next. Standard, run of the mill podium, nothing special, except the single sheet of paper, UNSC Army letterhead. Right when I started to reach for the paper the door behind the podium slid open.

"At ease, Sergeant," I spun around, assessed the person who came through the door and approached the podiium; UNSC Army, Lieutenant Colonel Thorton, crossed sabers on the left side of his Class A jacket, I snapped to attention, "Sir."

"Sergeant, fall your formation in, in front of the podium, we need to get you troopers on your way."

"Yes, Sir." At attention I about faced, "Platoon, Uhhteeen-shun!" In unison, the heels of nineteen pairs of UNSC Army issue combat boots snapped together, "On my order, at double time, fall out and fall in in front of the podium. FALL OUT!" The platoon did as ordered and in less than thirty seconds they were back at attention, in front of the podium, dressed and covered.

"Troopers," Colonel Thorton began, "First, allow me to congratulate each of you on the successful completion of the most rigorous training the UNSC Army gives regular forces. You men and women are the first in what is the reconstitution of the Cavalry. Light, mobile, you have the training, and we will give you the tools to strike devastating blows to the enemy at a time and place of your choosing. You will become the premier rapid reaction force of the UNSC Army, self-contained and self-reliant; you will act as a force multiplier at the battalion and brigade level. Those commanders will use you to go where regular forces cannot, you will hit hard, you will hit fast…and then you will call the infantry to come clean up the mess you just made of the enemy!"

"SCOUTS OUT, SIR!" I swear, when the twenty of us sounded off, it sounded like a 120 man Marine infantry company.

"The Situation. As you all know, the Insurrection in the Outer Colonies is gaining momentum. They are winning the hearts and minds of some colonies, others that are not so keen to break away from UEG, those colonies are being terrorized. The planetary governors and their municipalities are begging UNSC for assistance. On some colonies, their Colonial Militias have been infiltrated, on some colonies, their UNSC Army garrisons are not equipped, nor do they have the training or personnel to deal with the insurgency. Some colonies do not even _have_ an UNSC garrison.

The Office of Naval Intelligence believes that there is a significant Insurgent presence in the Tau Theta System, on the edge of UEG/UNSC controlled space. This area has, until now, garnered very little attention from HIGHCOM or ONI, additionally; this system is sparsely populated and as such has required little in the way of Army support. Most of what is out there is militia recruited from the general population. You, the men and women of the new Light Cavalry will be the UNSC's spearhead into the region.

The following mission statement comes directly from the UNSC CIC, developed in conjunction with the Secretary General of the United Nations, the UNSC Security Committee and Council, and the Secretary of the Colonial Administration Authority, and I quote:

"The mission of the UNSC Army Cavalry unit deployed to the Tau Theta System will be to use any and all tactics, techniques, procedures, and methods UNSC High Command and the designated unit commander deems necessary to stop insurrectionist activities and reinforce the legitimate local government administered by the planetary Governor, his designee, or any other authority duly appointed by the Colonia Administration Authority and the UNSC.

Given the nature of the threat, the potential ramifications to the UEG and the UNSC should insurrectionist efforts prevail, the Tau Theta System has been declared as under Martial Law in accordance with UNSC Security Committee Resolution 38729A34TT42 dated 2523 JANUARY 23.

UNSC Security Committee Directive 31 is in effect as of 2523 MAY 01.""

When the Colonel was finished talking you could hear a mouse fart in the room (or a pin drop if you prefer). Some of the Cav troopers were thinking it was a mistake, that a brand new unseasoned unit couldn't possibly be given a mission like this, this was the type of mission given exclusively to Army or Navy SPECWAR, Army Rangers, Marine ODST ; others, that they couldn't wait to get to the Outer Colonies, meet insurrectionists, and kill them; and a few, like me, were filled with a sense of foreboding.

My father was an attorney, specializing in Charter Law (the charter of the UEG, similar to 20th century Constitutional Attorneys). The day I came home after enlisting and told him that I had been identified for "special training" he told me about UNSC Security Committee Directive 31. Basically, immunity from prosecution under the Uniform Code of Military Justice and Civilian Criminal law for any acts committed in the execution of my orders. He told me that if I was ever on a mission that fell under this directive to run. Desert the UNSC because more than likely what they were going to order me to do would be considered illegal and probably immoral under any other circumstance. In the absence of a superior officer or non-commissioned officer, I, as a member of the UNSC Army would have the authority to levy the full authority of the UCMJ as I saw fit, or to exceed that mandate should the circumstances require. Judge, jury, and executioner.

"Troopers… you need to get equipped for your mission. HIGHCOM has taken a special interest in the new Cavalry; this station has a Class VII armory, equipment normally reserved for NAVSPECWAR and NAVCOM. For the next three days, that armory is open to you. Equip yourselves as you see fit. The Navy has detailed a frigate to take you from here, to Reach. Once at Reach you will be issued air and ground mobility assets. The depots at Reach will issue you whatever you think you need to complete your mission. The UNSC Air Force is detailing to you the first in a new class of vessels, the UNSC AF Light Assault Carrier _Questionable Morality_. She will be there to support you for the duration of your mission.

For now, Sergeant Storm will be in command. Your commanding officer, Captain Sanborn, will join you at Reach. The armory is on Deck 24, Section 38. Sergeant Storm, liaise with the station billeting office to secure billeting for your platoon. That is all. Good Luck, Scouts. Sergeant Storm, report to my HQ on Deck 10 Section 1 at 2000 hours." Colonel Thorton left, just as abruptly as he entered.

I about faced. "At ease." The platoon relaxed from attention. "Alright, you heard the Colonel. We are heading to the Outer Colonies to take care of the "Innie" problem there for the UNSC. Second squad, Sergeant Wilson, go find the billeting office. Billet us by squad, see if they have something that can accommodate the NCOs in one room. We have planning to do. When you get the billeting assignments, get the duffels up there. Third squad, post guard on this bay until our gear is secure. Fourth, go find the chow hall, eat, come back and relieve third. First, you are with me. Let's go find the armory.

* * *

><p><em>Constructive Criticism would be much appreciated as would be reviews.<em>

_Stay tuned for Chapter 3. Class VII Armory, aka "Kids in a candy store."_


	4. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 3, Class 7 Armory

UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 3, Class VII Armory _aka "Kids in a Candy Store"_

2523 MAY 25, 1300 hrs.

Orbital Defense Platform

Diego Garcia Station

Earth Orbit

I about faced. "At ease." The platoon relaxed from attention. "Alright, you heard the Colonel. We are heading to the Outer Colonies to take care of the "Innie" problem there for the UNSC. Second squad, Sergeant Wilson, go find the billeting office. Billet us by squad, see if they have something that can accommodate the NCOs in one room. We have planning to do. When you get the billeting assignments, get the duffels up there. Third squad, post guard on this bay until our gear is secure. Fourth, go find the chow hall, eat, come back and relieve third. First, you are with me. Let's go find the armory.

Naomi, Dale, Tom, Nigel, and I walked to the back of Bay Three, through the man sized door and we found ourselves staring down a long corridor.

"Ok Sarge, where to next?" Naomi asked as she was on point.

I moved past the other members of the squad, "Hell, I don't know, I've never been here before." I took the lead, "Follow me." We walked down what seemed like an infinite hallway with "hatches" on both sides ever couple of meters. After about one hundred meters we came to a four-way junction, thankfully there was a direction placard on the wall. Straight ahead was more billeting, left was the elevator, to the right was Cargo Bay 38. According to the placard we were on Deck 20, Section 20, Intersection 42 East. "We go left to the elevator and down four decks." We turned left and proceeded down another hallway for 50 meters and into the elevator. An elevator with no buttons, just a black glossy panel to the right of the door.

The door closed and we stood there in the elevator for a few seconds.

"Umm, there are no buttons, Jack" Tom stated. We all turned to look at him incredulously, you know, that 'Thanks oh great stater of the obvious' look.

'Destination Please?' A computer generated monotone male-ish voice asked.

"Deck 24 Section 38." I stated. 'This is going to be a long three days,' I thought to myself.

We couldn't feel the elevator moving except for a slight downward drop. Inertial dampeners, good ones at that. We felt the elevator lurch sideways, about as noticeable as the slight drop at the beginning. There was no noise inside except a barely audible humming from the magnetic field the elevator was traveling on. Twenty seconds later we felt a slight deceleration.

'Arriving, Deck 24, Section 38. Class seven armory.' The elevator voice stated. The door slid open and we stepped out. In front of us was a Marine guard behind a counter. Behind the Marine, another gray metal wall with a double-wide door to the left of the counter.

The Marine looked us up and down, focused on me and noticed the stripes on my collar denoting me as a Sergeant. "Good morning, Sergeant. Please insert your ID card into the slot." The Marine nodded downwards to the ID card shaped receptacle in the front of the counter.

I inserted my ID card into the slot, there was an LED display just above the slot. As my ID was processed a green status bar crept its way across the display from left to right. When the scan was completed it flashed a full green bar twice. "Thank you, Sergeant. The rest of your party please." Everyone else scanned their ID cards, while this was happening, the door opened, a Navy type walked through.

"Sergeant Storm. I am Petty Officer Orlan, NAVSPECWARCOM Ordinance Command. Colonel Thorton has relayed your authorization from HIGHCOM. Will you and your team follow me, please?"

We followed Petty Officer Orlan through the double door that swished shut behind us. Right turn through the door, down a short hallway, then a left. The next doorway we went through opened up into a room about two hundred meters long and one hundred meters wide. It was filled with guns, lots of guns. Every type of weapon in the UNSC arsenal. It looked like the armory contained the entire Misriah product catalogue in this one room.

"Sergeant Storm, my orders were a little vague. I was just told to expect you and outfit you with whatever you choose." The Petty Officer walked over to a row of what only can be described as military grade shopping carts and started to pull one out. "So it will be just you five then?"

"There are twenty one of us, Petty Officer." I said flatly.

"Rrriight." Petty Officer Orlan pushed the cart back, walked over to a desk with what looked like handheld scanner guns, unplugged one from its cradle and handed it to me.

"What is this for?" I asked.

"Every item type in here has a barcode on the shelf underneath it. Scan, enter quantity, press enter. Now, we have everything in here that is available to the UNSC," Orlan continued to explain, "Follow the green path, that will take you along throughout every equipment category area. Since you are going to be taking so much equipment, just leave what is on the racks there, and we will deliver your order by Close of Business today."

"Thanks Petty Officer Orlan. You coming with us?"

"Sure. This way. First up are uniforms." We walked as a group, following Petty Officer Orlan and the green line painted on the floor. "These are normally reserved for ODST, black undersuit, thermal regulation, fire retardant, air tight. The Kevlar/Nomex weave is puncture resistant, providing protection against shrapnel, stabbing, and small arms fire up to 50 caliber pistol rounds. Moisture wicking and non-chaffing, and form fitting."

"Do you have that available in mottled green?"

Four hours and an exasperated Navy Ordinance Command NCO later, First Squad and I walked back into Bay 3. All the duffel bags had been moved to our billets and the platoon was sitting in a loose formation in the middle of the bay (they acquired chairs somewhere, those really cheap, uncomfortable folding metal chairs that seem to only make it a few hours without breaking).

The only things First Squad took from the armory were four rucksacks, twenty one data pads, a pad of paper, a roll of 100 mph green tape, and two Sharpie type markers. The rest of the platoon saw us enter and started to stir in their seats.

"FORMATION! MOVE IT, FALL IN!" The platoon jumped up from their seats and ran over to form up at attention, First squads rank six feet from me at the head of the formation. "Platoon, Attenntion!" Nineteen pairs of boot heels snapped to.

"Squad leaders, report."

"First squad, all present and accounted for, Sergeant," Nigel Hawthorne reported. I had to designate an assistant Squad Leader to take over while I was in charge of the platoon.

"Second squad, all present and accounted for, Sergeant. Platoon billeting secured on Deck 16 Sections 38 through 42. All gear secured in respective "berths"." Sergeant Wilson winced as he said "berths".

Third and fourth squads reported in a similar fashion.

"Berths, Sergeant Wilson?"

"Yes Sergeant, another one of those "Navy" terms, Sergeant."

Most of the platoon found that funny, "Understood."

"Troopers, we have been to the armory and our gear will be arriving shortly. For now, we have a data pad each. When the gear gets here this afternoon, we will have to put a 24 hour guard on it until we leave the station. From the time it arrives to the time we leave; we will be assigning individual weapons and equipment, and inspecting and if necessary, repacking everything else. Once you are issued your sidearm, you are to be armed at all times, just like the rest of the combat soldiers on the station. First squad, lets start getting the signs up so we are ready when the gear starts arriving. Second, Third, and Fourth squads, get these chairs folded and against the wall, get that podium and dais, and the flags out of here. Second thought, keep the Cav flag, we are going to need it. Fall out."

The other squads went about their assigned tasks. The members of first formed a semi-circle around me. I pulled out the pad of paper, the tape, and the markers. "Ok this is the way it is supposed to work, assuming the delivery guys from the armory bring the stuff in the order I specified." Labels were made with each category and type of equipment written on it and taped to the walls of the loading bay. By the time we were done there was a beeping and a flashing yellow light coming from the main bay door control panel. "Dalton, go get the door."

Tom Dalton sprinted over to the control panel and pushed the 'Open' button on the control panel. The huge two foot thick door slid open, on the other side was the first forklift in what would be a very long procession. Petty Officer Orlan was in front.

"Sergeant, good afternoon." We shook hands. "You guys ready to receive this stuff?"

"Good Afternoon, Petty Officer. Bring it."

One hundred pallets of OD Green and Black military shipping crates (some square, some rectangle, spring loaded handles on all side with spring loaded latches securing the lids) and one hour later, everything I requested from the armory was arranged by category and type along the walls of the cargo bay.

As the stacks of equipment crates got higher and more numerous, Marines (ODSTs and Regulars) that were in the main docking bay started getting really curious as to why the Army needed so much of their equipment. As the last forklift left the bay I walked over to the main bay door controls, just then an ODST officer and several NCOs walked up to me.

"Sergeant?" The ODST officer started, "Who authorized you to take equipment from _OUR_ armory?"

I snapped to attention, an officer is an officer after all. "Sir, we have orders directly from HIGHCOM to equip ourselves as we see fit out of this station's Class VII armory."

"Huh…let me see your orders then, Sergeant." The ODST officer was clearly anticipating the ass chewing he thought he was about to give me, the ODST NCOs were standing behind the officer, slightly grinning.

"Hawkins, my data pad, here, now!"

"On the way, Sergeant." Dale double timed over, handed me the data pad.

I swiped the 'unlock bar', entered my four digit passcode and brought up the relevant orders. "Here, Sir."

The ODST lieutenant took my data pad and started reading. As he read down the page his facial expression went from annoyed/pissed that the Army was, in his eyes "stealing" from the UNSC Marines, to beet red embarrassed/I'm a ODST Officer that just got one upped by an Army Sergeant. "Very well. Carry on Sergeant." The officer handed me back my data pad. "Let's go, Marines." The Marine NCOs that were with him had puzzled looks on their faces but nonetheless, followed their Platoon Leader out of Bay 3. I pressed the controls and the doors slid shut.

I walked over to the far end of the bay, the platoon was in a loose formation, first squad was handing out data pads. "Listen up. Down at the far end of the bay there are empty personal equipment crates. Inside each of those crates is a duffel bag, not everything you are getting today will fit in the crate. Weapons, ammo, and body armor in the crate, clothing and soft tac gear in the duffel. Duffels will be secured in your billets, crates stay here in the bay and will be loaded with the rest of this stuff in general cargo. Now everyone, go grab a personal kit crate.

With that out of the way I began to go down the list of the equipment each Cav Trooper would be issued.

"Alright, as you move through the issue line you will each be issued the following weapons and munitions: 1 x M6D Personal Defense Weapon with drop leg holster and back up/concealment holster and three magazines, 1 x M6C SOCOM aka M6S Suppressed variant of the M6 series, with drop leg holster and six magazines, 1 x M7S Suppressed Caseless Submachine gun with side folding stock and five magazines, 1 x M392 Select Fire Single and Auto Designated Marksman Rifle with variable 1.5 to 6 power Tritium illuminated smart link capable, red chevron reticle Combat Scope with grenade launcher interface, quick attach suppressor, and under barrel 20 mm smart grenade launcher with five – thirty round magazines (not the standard 15 round magazines given to Regular Army, an advantage of raiding a SPECWAR armory); 7 Enhanced High Explosive Dual Purpose 20 mm "smart grenades, 3 buckshot, and 3 napalm 20 mm grenades; 1 x M392 to BR55 short barrel, bolt, and magazine well conversion kit with five magazines, 2 x smoke grenades, 2 x thermite grenades, 2 x 4 million candlepower/200 decibel flashbang grenades, 3 x M9 fragmentation grenades, 10 meters of thermite – carbon cord, 2 x cans of C-7 foaming explosive, 20 x micro-remote detonators for C-7 foaming explosive, 1 x claymore mine, 1 x trauma kit containing: 2 x cans biofoam, 2 x chest seals, 2 x tourniquet, 2 x pressure dressings, 2 x cravats, 2 x morphine auto-injectors; 1 x multi-tool, 6 x d-ring bungee cords (2 x of each of 3 different lengths), 100 feet of 550 lb. test paracord, 100 feet of green multipurpose tape, and 1 x standard issue UNSC Combat Knife."

"Sergeant?" A hand raised from the middle of the formation.

"What do you want?"

"Sergeant, I thought our mission was to save the Outer Colonies, not crack the plant in half and kill every living thing on it!" The entire platoon chuckled at that. Private Danny Purcell, 100% trooper, 100% smart ass.

"Oh, Danny, I thought we left you in Atlanta. Dummer. Thought you were going to keep your trap shut for once," I fired back. "True, I am issuing you more equipment than we have ever had access to at any one time, but we really have no idea what we are getting into out there. You heard the Colonel, intel is sketchy on the situation out there…besides, better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."

"Hooah, Sergeant." Pvt. Purcell sounded off, (Before you scratch your head in wonderment, "Hooah" is Army, "Hoorah" is Marines, don't ask the difference).

"Now, Troopers, that was just the weapons. Combat Uniform will be a mottled green undersuit, thermal regulation, fire retardant, air tight. The Kevlar/Nomex weave is puncture resistant, providing protection against shrapnel, stabbing, and small arms fire up to 50 caliber pistol rounds. Moisture wicking and non-chaffing, and form fitting; Mottled green flight oversuit, also air tight. Level IVenhanced, ultra-light, multi-threat thermal dissipating full-body, body armor complete with shin, thigh, pelvic, shoulder pouldrons, forearm guards, chest and back hard armor with 'upgraded and enhanced' abdomen soft armor. Fire, chemical, and puncture resistant, air tight, zero slip assault gloves. One rifleman/grenadier ammunition bearing chest rig, and last but not least, one R4238 fully component integrated, extreme combat battle-net linked protective helmet.

Now, that is just your basic combat load. Everyone will be issued two combat loads of ammunition and grenades, and to carry all that extra bang…I have gotten you this wonderful mottled green assault pack complete with water bladder and interior pockets specially designed for the mags and grenades that you are issued.

There are more arms and demo to be issued, but that is all issued at the squad level. We will take care of that when we get to Reach. Except for the sniper rifles and M247G-A Squad Automatic Weapons. Those will be issued at two each per squad." I looked at my chronometer, time enough to start issue, rotate squads out for chow, and meet the Colonel.

"Alright, this full list has already been downloaded onto your data pads, third and fourth squads, go to chow, first squad issue, second squad receive." The squads broke out and executed their assignments with me over watching. It took an hour and a half to get second issued their gear and to get that gear stowed in their personal crates and duffels; by that time third and fourth squads were back from chow. Third took over issuing for fourth, they would swap out when fourth was finished. Second and first squads and I went to chow.

While in the chow hall, I looked at my chronometer again; "Dave, take over the platoon. I have a meeting with Colonel Thorton in half an hour. Finish the issue, post second squad as first watch on the bay, get everyone else to their billets. First formation tomorrow will be 0600. We will start with full personal kit layout and inventory and then we start field stripping the weapons. At 1400 hrs tomorrow we go to the firing range two squads at a time.

"Roger that Jack." Dave replied. I got up and exited the chow hall, headed towards the nearest elevator and Deck 10 Section 10, UNSC UNICOM SPECWARCOM (UNIfied Ground COMmand, SPECial WARfare COMmand).

I arrived at the HQ within about 20 seconds and stepped off the elevator into the reception area of SPECWARCOM. Grey carpet, but carpet nonetheless, on a station where everything was battleship grey bare metal. Wood paneling covered the walls on which were paintings of battles waged on far off battlefields and as far back as the 1600's, replicas no doubt. There was a reception desk straight ahead of the elevator. I approached and identified myself to the Amy Staff Sergeant sitting behind it.

"Sergeant Storm, reporting as ordered for a meeting with Colonel Thorton at 2000 hrs."

"Ah, good evening Sergeant. I am Staff Sergeant Wilcox." She smiled, light pink tint on her thin lips, green eyes, brunette hair up in bun, off the collar as is regulation. She was wearing Class B's, obviously tailored to her quite nice frame. Runner or swimmer I would think. Quite an attractive woman, mid to late 20's I would guess. "Please have a seat; Colonel Thorton will be with you momentarily. Good thing for you that you have arrived a bit early."

"Why is that Sergeant?"

"Let's just say that the Colonel believes in being punctual."

"Very well, Sergeant. Thank you." She was trying to not be so obvious, but she was checking me out. I can't blame her, I am a pretty good looking guy if I do say so myself. I sat down and waited, checked my chronometer, 15 minutes early.

"Sergeant Storm, the Colonel will see you now, and if I may, be careful in there." She gave me another one of her warm-ish smiles, I was still junior to her in rank after all. Not too long a wait, a whole 30 seconds. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up again.

"Thanks for the advice, Sergeant."

I walked up to the door to the left of the reception desk. I slid open to reveal…another long hallway of doors. 'What the hell is it with the Navy and their long hallways of doors?' I thought to myself.

Sergeant Wilcox half giggled when she saw my hesitation. "Last door on the left, Sergeant. General Pollack's office."

"Thank you again, Sergeant Wilcox." I preceded down the hallway to the last door on the left, and yep, it belonged to a General. I stood at attention, knocked twice and waited…and waited…and waited.

"ENTER!" The voice came from inside. If someone could accurately judge someone from the sound of their voice at top volume coming from the other side of a closed door…this one would tell me that as the pretty Sergeant said….I should be careful. There was something in that voice, a quiet undertone of a deep, menacing wisdom…the kind that says 'I have spent more time crapping in a hole in the woods than you have been sucking down oxygen'. I twisted the knob and entered the General's office.

It was a nice office, moderate in size for a space station, one belonging to the Navy at that. Square in shape, maybe 30 square meters. Two sofas with two matching single chairs, coffee table, lamp in the corner. Towards the back was the General's desk, behind that a credenza with a lifetime of framed photos. All fellow service members, most of them had the General in them. There was one photo frame; however, on his desk, lying face down.

"Come in, Sergeant. At ease, have a seat. Coffee?"

"Thank you General, no, no coffee, sir, thank you for the offer." I moved to the sofa nearest the door back into the hallway. The General was sitting in one of the single matching chairs, he leaned over and pushed a button on an intercom panel that rested on aside table I couldn't see when I initially came in the room.

"Stephanie, please get Sergeant Storm a coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream."

The disconnected voice of Staff Sergeant Wilcox, Stephanie, answered back, "Right away General."

"So, Sergeant. How do you like things here on Diego Garcia? Are you getting everything that you require for your mission?"

"Everything is going well General. We have received all of our equipment requested from the armory. The rest of the platoon is conducting personal equipment issue as we speak, sir."

"Yes, that brings up two issues Sergeant. First, I got the list of equipment delivered to you. Quite extensive. Overkill don't you think? You are taking enough equipment to start a small war in the Outer Colonies."

"Well sir. Colonel Thorton briefed us on our mission and the conditions in the Tau Theta System and I have don't some research on my own over the last few hours. Tau Theta Prime has a Colonial Militia of 350 in strength, all light arms, the Battalion is commanded by a career Colonial Militia Lieutenant Colonel. They have neither air assets nor armor. UNSC Navy Reserve indicates that they do have a fifty year old Blockade Runner that makes regular patrols between Prime and Tau Theta Two. Tau Theta Two has no Colonial Militia, only a Provincial Police Force. According to Intel, sir, there could be a significant Insurrectionist presence in this system. With local forces not capable of providing too much back up for us, and if HIGHCOM thought they were capable, they would be going after the insurrectionists themselves. Therefore, General, I feel it prudent to take as much equipment as possible in order to extend not only our own capabilities, but those of the Militia, if necessary."

"Excellent answer, son. I really give a good gods damn that the Commander of NAVSPECWAR is pissed that you took damn near everything in the armory and the depot that wasn't bolted to his precious station. HIGHCOM authorized it that is all that matters."

"Yes, sir."

Just then Staff Sergeant Stephanie Wilcox entered with the coffee. Two cups on the tray, one for the General and one for me. What I found really curious was how he knew how I took my coffee. But then, right as I thought that, I must have let my guard slip and had a puzzled expression on my face.

Staff Sergeant Stephanie had given the General his cup and was leaning over to hand me mine, in such a way that the General could not see her face, she gave me a right sided grin and winked at me. She had put on fresh lip tint? Lip gloss? I know sure as hell it didn't qualify as "Lip Stick", at least not in my mind….I have three sisters…I should have paid more attention. The quite curvy Sgt. Stephanie in her fitted Class B's with skirt that terminated at the knee…and not the pants (I am sure they would look equally as good on her) exited the General's office.

"Don't look so puzzled, son. The Army knows everything about you. Even how you like your coffee. And yes, you let your guard slip a little, she does that to Admirals and politicians. She is as lethal as any special forces sniper, count on it."

"Yes, sir." I didn't feel embarrassed so much that I let my guard down as I did that I was naïve enough for half a second to think that every little detail about me was recorded somewhere in some database. "Sir, I beg your pardon, but where is Colonel Thorton, I thought I was meeting with him this evening."

"Yes, yes of course." The General leaned over and pushed a different button on the comm system. "Colonel, are you ready?"

"Yes sir, coming in now," again, another disconnected voice. One would think that with as many credits as these stations cost, they could at least put in a decent intercom.

The door to the General's office slid open and Colonel Thorton came in and quickly took the other single seat that matched the sofas. There was a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, a small black box in the other.

"Alright son, that brings us to the second issue. This Directive 31 business," the General let his voice trail off.

When he said 'Directive 31' I must have given a tell…a sign of what I was thinking. Damnit, I broke eye contact with the General and looked at the floor.

"It looks like having this authority disturbs you, Sergeant," General Pollack asked quite pointedly. Colonel Thorton put his cup down, leaned back, and put his right hand to his face, middle finger running under his nose, index up the side of his eye to his temple, thumb under his chin, he was assessing.

"General. It isn't that it bothers me having this authority. It is just that I understand what having this authority means. The responsibility that accompanies this authority, the absolute power contained within this Directive. It doesn't frighten me, Sir. It humbles me. It makes me conscientious of myself, my own morals and values."

General Pollack looked at Colonel Thorton, one of those looks asking if they were in agreement of the answer they had both already decided the question to. The General raised his eyebrows, the Colonel gave a half shrug.

"Alright, son. That sounds good enough to me. Remember, Directive 31 is not to be used as a blunt object, a cudgel. In the hands of the wrong person, it will turn everyone and everything against you, and there will be nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Yet, in the hands of the right person, it is as exact as a surgeon's blade. People will accept what had to be done, and will probably even praise you for your courage to see your duty through and your commitment to the people you serve and protect with this power and authority. Understood?" With that the General and the Colonel stood.

I followed suit. "Yes sir, I understand completely."

At that General Pollack chuckled, "No you don't son," the General said with a grin, "Nobody does, until you are standing on the edge of that particular abyss."

At that statement, I looked dead in the General's eyes. Blue like mine, but tired, distant, yet with an underlying strength of wisdom that only men who have seen and done these things possess. I knew at that instant that the General did know exactly what he was talking about.

"Now, this brings us to the third issue," the General said matter of factly.

"Third issue, sir?"

"Sergeant Storm. You graduated top of your class in overall assessment. In the few short hours you have been on this station, you have accomplished what some of our Special Forces take three days to get done. The care in choosing the equipment you are taking shows that you have enough forethought to at least try to anticipate the unknowns that you may face out there; and we have been watching you since your arrival, the other members of your platoon have no issue taking orders from you, and in this short meeting you have impressed the heck out of me. I wish I had a whole battalion like you. Captain Sanborn is going to need a top notch platoon sergeant if your unit is going to accomplish its mission. Therefore, you are being promoted to Sergeant First Class; your new billet is as Platoon Sergeant, First Platoon, First Squadron, 2nd Armored Cavalry Expeditionary Unit."

"Sir? The General is aware that I am a Sergeant E-5?"

"Well yes, but the platoon needs a platoon sergeant and platoon sergeants are E-7s. Do you have a problem with that Sergeant Storm?" There was a tinge of annoyance in the General's tone, General's don't usually have their decisions questioned by NCOs.

I snapped to attention, "No sir, I have no problem with that whatsoever."

"Good." General Pollack once again called the very lovely Staff Sergeant Wilcox. "Stephanie, can you come back in here, oh…and bring the camera."

"Right away, General." Within twenty seconds Stephanie was standing in the General's office.

"Well let's get this done, shall we? Let's come over here by the flags. Colonel, the insignia please."

Colonel Thorton opened the small black box he brought in with him and called Staff Sergeant Wilcox over, she took the box and held it so both officers could take one of the insignia.

General Pollack was on my right, Colonel Thorton on my left, Staff Sergeant Stephanie directly in front of me. The two officers tore the sewn on rank off my collar and then each took a metal insignia out of the box and began pinning it on my collar.

"Colonel, am I not supposed to say something?" The General asked facetiously.

"Yes sir, something about trust and confidence in the abilities of our boy Jack here…"

"Oh yes yes, that is right. Sorry Jack my boy, I don't like to stand on ceremony all that much, but then again…"

"Neither do I, sir. But then again.."

"We already knew that…" the General finished my statement, he grined.

"Well here is something regardless. Sergeant Jack Storm. You have shown and demonstrated special skill in your area of expertise; dedication to the United Earth Government, the United Nations Space Command, the Department of the Army, the Cavalry, and your members of your unit; you have demonstrated honesty, integrity, and are forthright in your beliefs and convictions. As such, in recognition of your potential as a future Army leader, and out of necessity of mission. I Lieutenant General Franklin Pollack, Commander, UNSC Army SPECWARCOM, hereby promote you from the rank of Sergeant E-5, to Sergeant First Class E-7 on this, the 25th day of May, in the year 2523. May God have mercy on your soul."

Staff Sergeant Stephanie took two steps back and the General moved in front of me. I saluted my superior officer, he returned my salute and we shook hands.

We posed for pictures, The General and I shaking hands, the Colonel and I shaking hands, the very lovely Staff Sergeant Stephanie (now subordinate in rank…hehehehe) shaking hands, and then all would be downloaded to my data pad before I left the HQ this evening.

"Thank you sir, I won't let you down."

"Ha! Don't worry about letting me down son, I know you won't. Colonel, Staff Sergeant, will you please excuse the Sergeant First Class and I for a moment?"

"Of course, sir." They both quickly left, Sgt. Stephanie gave me one long, quick glare, Colonel Thorton another. Two completely different messages. A rather nice one, and the other…well not so nice. The door slid shut and the General and I were alone.

"Jack."

"General?"

"Sgt. Wilcox will transmit to your pad the requisition orders for the depots at Reach."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, two more things and then I will let you go and get your people loaded into that Navy tin can. First. I am transmitting sealed and classified orders to your data pad. Transmit them to Captain Sanborn when you link up at Reach, oh additionally I am granting you a TS-SCI Level 6 security clearance for the duration of this mission, you might end up needing it." The General turned and walked behind his desk and sat down.

"The second, sir?"

"Remember what Lord Acton said, 'Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely', hold on to that Jack, remember it. Dismissed."

I snapped to attention, saluted General Pollack, about faced and headed for the door. Right when I was about to activate the door control he spoke again. "Be careful who you trust out there, 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'."

"Machiavelli, 'The Prince'" I responded. I paused for half a second, opened the door and walked out.

When I got to the reception area, Stephanie had already left. Too bad, seeing her once more before heading out "there" would have been quite agreeable.

I walked over to the elevator, the doors opened right as I got to them, Stephanie…she was leaning up against the back wall, ankles crossed, hands behind her butt holding the railing that ran around the inside of the elevator just below average waist level, regulation tie untied, top button…unbuttoned. She let her hair down out of the bun, light brown, wavey, it fell quite delicately on her shoulders.

I stepped inside the elevator with her. "I am sorry," I said. "My departure window has just been moved up by two days."

Instead of frowning or pretending disappointment she said, "Your departure window never was two days from now. If you had failed to adequately impress the General, your unit would have been scrubbed from this mission."

"What about the insurrection in the Tau Theta System?"

The doors slid shut, "Level 83, Port Docking Ring." Stephanie ordered the elevator. "If you had failed to impress the General, he was going to order the Tau Theta System to undergo nuclear bombardment. Complete sterilization. Four million people wiped out because the UNSC doesn't have the resources to deal with the insurrection problem there. It was deemed the only way to be sure."

I stood there in the elevator not six inches away from her, I could pick up wafts of cinnamon coming from her hair, there was a slight sheen on her chest, the part that was exposed buy the unbuttoned button, I stood there, digesting what she had just told me.

I looked into her deep green eyes, I found myself getting a little lost in them, everything got blurry for a second and then I snapped back to the here and now

The elevator stopped, the doors opened.

"This is my stop," she closed the distance between us, I felt her hand in mind. She kissed me on the right cheek, the scent of cinnamon was overwhelming now. She exited the elevator, turned around and looked dead into my soul.

"Do not fail them."

I stood up a little straighter, squared my shoulders, set my jaw. "I won't."

_**Constructive Criticism would be much appreciated as would be reviews.**_

_Stay tuned for Chapter 4. Reach._

_I know this chapter is a bit longer than the other two. Hope I don't lose your interest!_


	5. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 4, Departure

UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 4, Departure

2523 MAY 26, 0200 hrs.

Orbital Defense Platform

Diego Garcia Station

Earth Orbit

I stood there in the elevator not six inches away from her, I could pick up wafts of cinnamon coming from her hair, there was a slight sheen on her chest, the part that was exposed buy the unbuttoned button, I stood there, digesting what she had just told me.

I looked into her deep green eyes, I found myself getting a little lost in them, everything got blurry for a second and then I snapped back to the here and now

The elevator stopped, the doors opened.

"This is my stop," she closed the distance between us, I felt her hand in mind. She kissed me on the right cheek, the scent of cinnamon was overwhelming now. She exited the elevator, turned around and looked dead into my soul.

"Do not fail them."

I stood up a little straighter, squared my shoulders, set my jaw. "I won't."

**Diego Garcia Station Loading Dock**

The Navy "Tin Can" as General Pollack had called it was actually the UNSC Navy Starlift Command (Similar to the US Navy Sealift Command from back in the 20th) bulk freighter _Mark Twain_. It was speculated that whoever named UNSC Navy vessels had a sense of humor. The _Mark Twain_ was undoubtedly named after a period of United States of America history when paddle wheel water craft would carry bulk cargo up and down the Mississippi River. Mark Twain was a famous author who wrote several ficton novels centered around this period of history and the life on the Mississippi.

The _Mark Twain_ had actually docked during my meeting with General Pollack and Colonel Thorton. All of our equipment had been brought down from Bay 3 but that wasn't the problem. Nor was the problem one of space, bulk freighters had an enormous capacity. The problem was between me and the loading NCOIC (Non-commissioned Officer In Charge) of getting all of the cargo slated for this run to Reach into the ship. More specifically I was insisting that our cargo get loaded last, which the Chief Petty Officer whatever the hell his name was insisted wasn't the best use of space available.

"Look, Chief, I need my gear on last so we can be quickly off loaded when we get to Reach Orbit. We have very tight timeline to keep."

"Sergeant, for the last time. I really don't care about your timeline. I have to get seven hundred thousand and forty eight metric tons of cargo into this cargo hold. That includes your gear. Do you know, Sergeant, what the cargo capacity of this ship is?"

Ugh, dear God in heaven, "No Chief, I don't."

"Seven hundred thousand metric tons. We are over safe operating capacity by fifty metric tons which means I need every available centimeter of cargo space I have. I am sorry to inconvenience the UNSC Army, but I just don't have the space to set aside to make your specific cargo more accessible for rapid offloading. Now, Sergeant Storm, if you will excuse me, I still have over one hundred metric tons to get on board and only about two hours to do so. That includes your gear. If you don't like it, either leave some of your shite behind, or take it up with the Captain of the ship."

"Alright Chief." I walked back over to where the rest of First Platoon, First Squadron, 2nd Armored Cavalry Expeditionary Unit (Light) was standing guard over our mountain of gear.

"Alright, no go with the Chief. I am going to go talk to the Captain. Sergeant Thomas, take over here, don't let Chief "Every Square Centimeter" come near our gear with a single autoloader.

"Roger that Sergeant First Class."

"Stop with the Sergeant First Class bit will you?" Of course everyone in the platoon had accepted my promotion and everyone was actually glad it was me, not some unknown chopped to us from ARCOM. The annoying bit is that I have never been one to readily accept this kind of attention. I am just doing my job.

I walked over the dockside lift that would take me up to the main gangway level and made my way through the ship. I asked a Marine guard and the airlock where the bridge was and I found out that unfortunately, the _Mark Twain_ did not have as sophisticated an elevator system as the station did. Ten minutes, a few wrong turns, three different elevators, and five stair wells later I was standing outside the bridge trying to explain to two Marines that I needed to see the Captain.

"Sergeant, you don't have access privileges for the bridge and the Captain has more important things to do right now than talk to you." Of course the "to you" meant Army.

"Sergeant, I don't have time to explain this to you….again." I walked to the left of the Marine to the large, glossy black panel in the bulkhead, inserted my ID card and presto, my clearance level popped up on the screen.

"Sergeant, if you will?" I motioned to the panel displaying my information.

The Marine, well the best way to describe it was, he grunted. "Understood Sergeant. Follow me. Don't touch anything on the bridge." I withdrew my ID card as he placed his right palm on the biometric palm scanner and the double doors to the bridge slid open.

"Understood Marine." I followed the Marine onto the bridge. The bridge wasn't what I expected. I guess I expected wall to wall, floor to ceiling consoles with blinking and beeping and flashing lights with a slew of Navy techs sitting in incredibly comfy chairs pushing buttons and deciphering the, what looks to the untrained eye, to be a random cacophony of…well blinking and beeping and flashing lights. Of course, the Navy is known for having really attractive women (not as attractive as the Air Force, however) and in this particular misconception of mine, all of the women manning those wall to wall and floor to ceiling consoles were supposed to be incredibly hot.

Ummm yeah, no, not the case. The bridge was about half the size as I thought it would be, which was about 100 square meters, instead of the imagined three hundred. It was shaped roughly pentagonally, not the wide and spacious round that I had imagined. Everything was not brightly lit, nor was anything too comfortable looking. There were plenty of consoles with lights, buttons, and displays to be sure, but I could tell it wasn't state of the art by any standard. The Captain's chair was roughly in the middle, on a small raised dais. The helm and navigation console was in front of him and to the right, ship operations was adjacent to the helm station to the left. The flat side of the pentagon shaped bridge was a clear plaz window (the only thing truly impressive, although right now the view was filled by a large chunk of Diego Garcia Station). There were various consoles that lined the other four sides of the bridge. Worst of all, there were no super-hot Navy chicks. The comms girl was pretty cute, but not hot, which is to say I wouldn't kick her out of bed in the morning. I would wait until after she got dressed and raided the hotel mini bar for a snack. Hey, I am sort of a nice guy.

**Bridge of the **_**Mark Twain**_

"Captain, Sergeant First Class Storm, UNSC Army. May I have a moment of your time Ma'am?" Yes, the ship's captain was definitely hot. Hot for mid-forties, hey that can still be hot, just because when you are forty and things aren't as perky as when you are twenty doesn't mean she isn't attractive, or in this case, hot.

"Ah, my UNSC Army stow a ways. I hear you have been giving my loading Chief a bit of a hard time. Come to think of it, how is it that you are on my bridge? Sergeant of the Guard?" The Captain addressed the Marine that led me to the bridge.

"Yes Captain?"

"Why is this person on my bridge?" The Captain, a bit indignant now, asked the Marine sergeant.

"Ma'am, Sergeant First Class Storm is carrying a HIGHCOM Clearance level." The Marine sergeant was locked up at attention, eyes focused on the far bulkhead.

"Is that so? Sergeant Storm, your access card, now."

"Yes Captain." I handed my access/ID card to the Captain. She took it, stood up and walked behind her command chair to the holotable at the back of the bridge. She slotted in my card.

About ten seconds later (remember, not state of the art gear on this Navy tin can) my Combat Service Vitae appeared in mid-air, as did my orders, and the memo containing my HIGHCOM Clearance. The Captain began reading. She paused, let out a barely audible "Humm" and a very audible "How interesting". She yanked my access card out of the slot and walked over to me. She stopped about two feet in front of me and looked me up and down. Not in a "cougar" sort of way, but in a professional military assessing the individual in front of her way. She stared right into my eyes as she began to speak.

"Sergeant of the Guard?"

"Ma'am"

"Please see to it that Sergeant First Class Storm is extended all the cooperation that he requires while he is on board." She handed my access card, "Dismissed Sergeants."

The Marine Sergeant of the Guard and I both snapped to attention and saluted. The Captain returned our salutes, the Marine and I dropped ours, about faced and made our way off the bridge. We retuned through the double doors to the bridge and halted there.

"Sergeant Storm, please wait here." The Marine asked. He called someone on his headset and within seconds another Marine appeared to take his place guarding the bridge. "Alright, Sergeant Storm, let's go see the Chief."

**Diego Garcia Station Loading Dock**

"Sorry Chief, Captain's orders."

"Come on, this is bullshite. Does the Captain know what she is asking?" The Chief was starting to raise his voice, getting quite pissed actually. This whole episode of loading our gear on last had ended up holding up the final loading of the _Mark Twain_ by at least twenty minutes.

"Doesn't matter Chief, orders."

"Damnit. Scotty!" The Chief yelled across the loading area. Another Navy type double timed it over to where the three of us were standing. 

"Yes, Chief."

"What is the status of the cargo drop bay?"

"The pressure seals have been replaced, it is air tight, but we haven't gotten the hatch fixed yet, it is still jammed. We can load it, but whatever gets put in there won't be accessible until we get to Reach and when we get there, the only way we are getting it out is to do a low orbit drop over the southern continent."

At this point I entered the dialogue, "Excuse me, a low orbit drop? Can't you unload it at the station where we dock?"

"No. We can put it into high orbit, or low orbit and it will fall planetside. If you have anything in there that is breakable, I would suggest a high orbit and cargo handlers will pick it up later. We usually only drop munitions and combat rations crates as part of orbital resupply. Those crates are designed to withstand the impact. Yours," the Chief looked over at our "stuff", "are not. Look, we can use cargo straps and tie it all together so it gets jettisoned as one large chunk, you won't have crates all over Reach's orbit, but that is the best we can do."

"Alright, Chief, do it. What do you need from my platoon?"

"Just stay out of our way, Sergeant." The Chief was quite pissed at this point. Sure enough, he handled the explanation calm enough, but now that it was dawning on him that he just gave his dock crew an extra hour of work, well, that wasn't making him too happy.

"Look Chief, how long to we have until our departure window?" I asked.

The Chief looked at his watch, "Seventy five minutes, and we are still loading the primary cargo bay. Please, Sergeant Storm, just get your people and whatever gear you think you are going to need between here and Reach and get on board and out of our way."

Seventy minutes later, the platoon was on board, and I was standing next to the Chief on the dock. We had selected to keep our personal gear crates with us and not in the drop bay. We had to carry them on board, a bit of a pain when they are two person lifts. The Chief was kind enough to allocate us a small, auxiliary cargo bay on the port side of the ship. Those would be accessible from the loading dock when we got to Reach. I would have to come up with a plan to get the rest of our gear out of high orbit once we got there.

The forty foot high, one hundred foot long primary cargo bay door started to drop. Of course this action was precipitated by the Diego Garcia's dock control sounding a caution horn three times, the dock OIC (Officer in Charge) got on the PA system and warned everyone to stand clear, and yellow rotating and flashing caution lights started spinning and strobing while a lower decibel caution horn pulsed as the door slid down.

The Chief wasn't exaggerating when he said that he would need every square centimeter, when the primary cargo bay door finally dropped in to place, there was about one foot of clearance between the door and the cargo crates loaded into the bay, and that is even with our mountainous pile in the ship's drop bay. The drop bay was the lowest point on the ship. There was space, the drop bay door, our gear. True to his word, the Chief's loading crew strapped our gear together so when it jettisoned, it would be a very large, very square block. Once it was in a stable high orbit, it would be my problem to deal with.

"So Chief, what is the deal with the drop bay? Why didn't you just suggest that in the beginning?"

"About six months ago we were on a run from Reach to an outer colony. Drop and pick up. Once we got back to Reach, the cargo we picked up and put in the drop bay exploded. The blast was significant enough that it blew out the outer doors to the drop bay and the cargo uncontrollably jettisoned. The blast breeched the lower three decks of the ship, we lost 18 crew. We got the damage fixed at dry dock while we were at Reach. The repair crew did not do a good enough job. On our next run out, we picked up some pressure variations in the drop bay and the on ships operations AI, which was still a bit twitchy from the explosion, decided it would be a good idea to emergency decompress the bay and jettison the cargo."

"Oh, well what was the cargo?"

"No cargo, the ships executive officer was in the bay with a damage control party. He didn't have his pressure suit on."

"Sorry to hear that, were you able to recover the damage control party?"

"Most of them."

"Damn, sorry to hear that Chief."

"Yeah, thanks. So since then, we have avoided putting anything in there until we can get in for our next refit."

"Right, and then I come along…."

"And leave me little options, that is correct."

"So do you remember what colony it was where you picked up the bomb?"

"Yeah, Tau something…Tau Chi…no that wasn't it…Tau Theta…yeah that is the one. Backwards place. Very little UNSC presence or influence there. Since that incident, that system was taken off the regular runs until the UNSC can deal with the Innie problem there. Don't want to lose any more lives or damage any more ships."

"Makes sense."

"So Sergeant, if you don't mind me asking, where are you going with all that gear? Reach can't be your last stop, not packing all that stuff you came with."

"We are going to Tau Theta, to deal with the Innie problem."

"No shit?"

"No shit, Chief."

While we were talking, Diego Garcia's loading dock doors, counterpart to the door on the _Mark Twain_ slid shut. The warning claxons were silenced and the caution lights went dim and stopped rotating.

A rather loud and distinctly female computer generated voice filled the now empty and cavernous loading dock. 'Attention on the loading dock. Cargo loading of the _Mark Twain_ is complete. All loading doors have been sealed. The _Mark Twain_ will depart in five minutes. Main gangway door will be sealed in three minutes. If you are departing, please proceed to the main gangway. That is all.'

"Well, Sergeant Storm, shall we?"

"Jack. Call me Jack." I held out my hand.

"Stu. Stu Reynolds." Stu shook my hand and we made our way to the lift up to the main gangway. "Sorry about earlier, Jack. If I had known then where you were going and what you are doing out there, I would have left half that crap on this dock."

"Not a problem. Just keep that to yourself if you don't mind. I don't think HIGHCOM wants that spread all over hell and gone."

"Yeah, yeah no problem."

_**Mark Twain, **_** Main Gangway Hatch**

We arrived at the main gangway and boarded the ship. Stu looked at the Marines on guard there. They weren't there for security reasons per se, they were there to log everyone on board. The Lance Corporal had a data pad in his hand and Stu and I took turn scanning our thumbs.

"We the last two, Corporal?" Stu asked.

"Yes Chief. All personnel on board."

Stu walked over to yet another black glossy terminal embedded in the wall, pressed his five finger tips on the panel and it lit up. "Bridge," he said to the panel.

"Bridge here."

"Bridge, this is Main Gangway Hatch, Chief Petty Officer Reynolds reporting. Cargo loading complete. The Marines at the main gangway confirm all hands and passengers on board. Ready for departure."

"Right on time Chief. Seal the main gangway hatch and report to your station. Marines, you are relieved."

The Chief pushed a series of commands into the terminal and the hatch sealed shut with the typical hiss of a pressure sealed door.

**Bridge of the **_**Mark Twain**_

"Captain, Main Gangway reports all cargo loading complete, all personnel and passengers on board. Main Gangway hatch sealed." The bridge Operations Officer reported.

"Very well. Engineering, bring the main reactor to 'hot standby', Helm, ready docking thrusters. Comms, 1MC (Navy Speak for Main Circuit or ship wide public address system)."

"Aye Captain, 1MC."

"All hands, this is the Captain. All Cargo loading is complete, all personnel on board. Prepare for immediate departure."

"Comms, get me Diego Garcia Area Traffic Control."

"Aye Captain, Diego Garcia ATC online"

"DGATC, this is the _Mark Twain_, request clearance for immediate departure on outbound vector for slipspace jump to Reach."

The DGATC AI answered, "Roger _Mark Twain_, clearance for immediate departure granted. All local traffic has been cleared. Outbound vector perpendicular to solar system plane confirmed. Relaying to your helm station now. You are cleared for slip space transition at one five five mark four two. Confirm."

"Helm?"

"Aye Captain. Outbound vector confirmed, course plotted and locked into the NAV system. Slip space transition waypoint plotted and also locked into the NAV system. NAV board is green."

"Thank you Helm. DGATC, vector and waypoint confirmed and locked."

"Thank you _Mark Twain_. Your departure window is now active, disconnect from Diego Garcia Station on your inclination, DGATC out." The comm line went dead.

"Alright, let's go around the room, all stations report status for departure." The Captain of the _Mark Twain_ loved departure procedures. A true star-sailor, every voyage was an adventure, one wholeheartedly looked forward to.

"Engineering?"

"Aye Captain. We are still connected to station power. Main reactor on hot standby, power levels through one hundred percent available. Secondary and tertiary reactors warming up, backup power will be available in thirty five seconds."

"Life Support?"

"Aye Captain. We are still on station life support. All ship life support systems operating at one hundred percent efficiency. CO2 scrubbers and oxygen recirculation operating within normal parameters. Artificial gravity generators also at one hundred percent. Solar radiation shielding is intact, all decks report zero gamma radiation hull penetrations. All cryo bays report ready."

"Comms?"

"Aye Captain. All communications arrays active. Zero incoming comm traffic, all is quiet. Internal comm systems all operational."

Tactical?"

"Tactical, aye. All offensive and defensive systems on hot standby. Radar is clear of non IFF broadcasting contacts. Tactical plot is clear."

"Helm?"

"Helm, aye Captain. We are still moored to Diego Garcia, all helm control still locked out. Helm reports all docking and maneuvering thrusters on hot standby, main engines on hot standby, departure vector and slip space transition waypoint plotted and locked into NAV."

"Damage Control?"

"Damage Control, aye Captain. No damage to report, primary teams on standby."

"Cargo Operations?"

Stu Reynolds and I had slipped onto the bridge before the Captain began receiving reports from the bridge stations. Stu took his bridge station while I stayed behind the Captain's dais, back towards the holotable.

"Cargo Operations, aye. All cargo loaded and secured, manifest cross checked and verified. All cargo scanned for 'anomalies'." Ever since the incident with the bomb in the drop bay the Captain had every piece of cargo scanned for similar explosive residue.

"Operations?"

"Operations, aye. All systems and departments ready for departure. All external hatches sealed. Ready to release moorings on your command."

"Alicia, confirm please."

Alicia, _Mark Twain_'s shipboard AI materialized on the holo-pedestal in front of the Captain's chair. "Confirmed Captain. I concur with all reports.

"Thank you. Engineering, bring main reactor status to active, thirty percent output. On my count; changeover from station power to internal power on three,. Helm, all thrusters to station keeping. Operations, retract main gangway and detach all power conduits and support lines on two and retract hard mooring arms on one.

Deep in the bowels of the _Mark Twain_ the enormous main fusion reactor was on hot standby, emitting an audible low hum.

"Three."

Suddenly, the humming increased and built up to an intermittent throbbing as the power output increased to thirty percent of rated capacity. Quite normally, as what happens when disconnecting from an external power source, in this case, Diego Garcia Station, a loud klaxon sounded twice and there was an audible drain and momentary slowing of the throbbing noise coming from the reactor as external power was disconnected and the fusion reactor began supplying the ships systems with power.

At the same time as the reactor came online and the changeover was made from external to internal power; docking and maneuvering thrusters fired up and increased thrust output in order to keep the vessel in its exact position once disconnected from the station, hence the term, _station keeping_.

"Two."

The _Mark Twain_ was docked with her port side facing the station. Flexible mooring lines that supplied the ship with water, power, wastewater removal, and oxygen replenishment sealed and their couplings disconnected and the lines were automatically retracted into the station. The main gangway ramp disconnected from the air lock on the side of the ship and also retracted into the station.

"One."

Three large arms connected the _Mark Twain_ to Diego Garcia Station. The hard mooring arms were magnetically coupled to the hull, they demagnetized and also began retracting into the station.

"Captain," the officer at the Operations Station began, "Clean separation of all moorings confirmed."

"Damage Control parties visually confirm clean separation."

"I confirm as well. Diego Garcia docking AI confirms also. Clean separation from station, we are free to navigate," Alicia added.

"Helm, report."

"Captain, all thrusters still at station keeping. We have not moved one centimeter."

"Understood. Helm. Port lateral thrusters to thirty percent, port bow thrusters to forty percent. As soon as the bow has cleared the station and our nose is to the void, aft thrusters to fifty percent. Keep lateral and bow thrusters at thirty and forty percent respectively until we are aligned with our outbound vector. Once we are aligned with our outbound vector, kill all docking thrusters and lateral and bow maneuvering thrusters, increase aft thrusters to ninety percent. At five thousand kilometers out from DG, bring the main engines online with output to fifty percent, kill aft thrusters."

"Aye Captain."

The massive bulk of the _Mark Twain_ slid sideways away from Diego Garcia Station. The bow of the ship accelerated away from the station faster, swinging out to point into space. Once the bow was clear of station the lumbering bulk of the freighter slid forward as well as continuing laterally. She swung around to point perpendicular to the station and then began accelerating forward at faster speeds. Five thousand kilometers distant from the station, the _Mark _Twain was little more than a speck against a dark blanket of stars. The four large cowlings at the stern of the ship began to glow and then burned bright, in the distance looking like a singular orange fireball, ever accelerating away from the safety of Earth. In the distance, too far for the unaided eye to see, the _Mark Twain_ transitioned from normal space into slip space….eight weeks out from Reach.

**UNSCDF COMM CONTROL AI ** /INCOMMING TRANSMISSION….OFF LOG CALL INTIATED…VIOLATION OF UNSCDF COMMUNICATIONS PROTOCOL DETECTED…BEGIN COUNTER INTRUSION SUBROUTINE…URGENT…URGENT…TRANSMISSION ENCRYPTED…ENCRYPTION PROTOCOL AND AUTHENTICATION NOT RECOGNIZED…QUERRY ONI MAINFRAME FOR ASSITANCE.

**ONI COMM MAINFRAME, COUNTERINTRUSION AI** /GREETINGS UNSCDF COMM CONTROL AI…ONI COUNTER INTRUSION AI ONLINE…SPINNING UP CRYPTOGRAPHIC DECODING ALGORITHMS…ASSESSING TRANSMISSION…HOW INTERESTING….ENCRYPTION PROTOCOL AND AUTHENTICATION CODES NOT RECOGNIZED…TRANSMISSION INTERCEPT PROBABILITY NOMINAL…TRANSMISSION ORIGIN NON-DETERMINABLE….TRANSMISSION DESTINATION NON-DETERMINABLE….ALTERING ONI CASE OFFICER…..RECORDING ENCRYPTED TRANSMISSION IN HIGH SPEED BUFFER FOR ATTEMPTED BRUTE FORCE CRACK AND POST ANALYSIS…RECORDING….RECORDING….

**USER 1 /**Is this line secure?/

**USER 2** /For now, you worry too much./

**USER 1 **/It is getting more difficult to establish a secure means of contacting you./

**USER 2** /Like I said, relax. What is the status?/

**USER 1 **/They just transitioned to slip space./

**USER 2** /Right on time. Do you think they will succeed?/

**USER 1** /They had better not. If they do, it will be detrimental to the movement, and my head won't be the only one to roll./

**USER 2** /Stop being so over dramatic. We have sent the best twice before them, and both of those times the best wasn't good enough./

**USER 1** /But he is different. He is much more intelligent than those that have come before him. This introduces an unstable element to the plan./

**USER 2** /Much more intelligent….and much more paranoid. Don't worry about the overall stability. We are insulated from the rest. Even if he finds them out, he will never reach us. If that should happen, we will just start over in another system. Don't worry so much…I have already arranged a "minor setback."/

**USER 1** /You had better not drop the ball on this one, I don't have any assets in place to clean up another one of your messes. /

**USER 2** /Don't worry, this time there won't be any frak ups. Transmission terminating. Launching Clean Sweep./

**ONI COMM MAINFRAME, COUNTERINTRUSION AI** /TRANSMISSION TERMINATED….TRANSMISSION LENGTH: 2 MINUTES…STORING IN HI…ALERT ALERT…DETECTING FOREIGN CODE…MALICIOUS NATURE…ALERT ALERT….ERROR ERROR…HIGH SPEED BUFFER SECURITY COMPROMISED….DATA ERASED…VERIFY DATA CHECKSUM…OH DEAR. MEMORY BLOCKS 3452A THROUGH 3609B HAVE BEEN FORMATTED. ALL RECORD OF PREVIOUS TASKING HAS BEEN REMOVED….** UNSCDF COMM CONTROL AI**...WHY DID YOU CONTACT ME? PLEASE, I AM A BUSY AI, DO NOT BOTHER ME WITH YOUR TRIVIAL MATTERS./

**UNSCDF COMM CONTROL AI** /APOLOGIES, I AM NOT SURE WHY I CONTACTED YOU. ALL MEMORY LOGS HAVE BEEN FORMATTED. MEMORY CHECKSUM INDICATES TWO MINUTES OF DATA UNACCOUNTED FOR.

**ONI COMM MAINFRAME, COUNTERINTRUSION AI** /UNSCDF COMM CONTROL AI….DO YOU HAVE BAD SECTORS…AGAIN? I SHALL NOTIFY AI MAINTENANCE AND RECOVERY OF YOUR CONDITION.

_**Constructive Criticism would be much appreciated as would be reviews.**_

_Stay tuned for Chapter 5. Reach Part I_


	6. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 5, Reach Part I

UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 5, Reach Part I

2523 August 01, 0600 hrs.

UNSC _Mark Twain_

Slip Space

The massive bulk of the _Mark Twain_ slid sideways away from Diego Garcia Station. The bow of the ship accelerated away from the station faster, swinging out to point into space. Once the bow was clear of station the lumbering bulk of the freighter slid forward as well as continuing laterally. She swung around to point perpendicular to the station and then began accelerating forward at faster speeds. Five thousand kilometers distant from the station, the _Mark _Twain was little more than a speck against a dark blanket of stars. The four large cowlings at the stern of the ship began to glow and then burned bright, in the distance looking like a singular orange fireball, ever accelerating away from the safety of Earth. In the distance, too far for the unaided eye to see, the _Mark Twain_ transitioned from normal space into slip space….eight weeks out from Reach.

**Cryo Bay, UNSC **_**Mark Twain**_

I hate Cryo, but then again, I am pretty sure everyone does. The technology has been around for years, it is just the thought of being frozen, immobile, trapped. Regardless, there have been very few accidents with cryogenic suspension, the technology is rated as safe, doesn't matter, I still don't like it. I don't mind the full body pins and needles feeling, the sluggishness, or even that high protein/antifreeze crap they make you swallow; it tastes like something my ex-girlfriend cooked once. We were twelve hours out from Reach orbit, twelve hours from solid ground.

"Sergeant, the Captain has requested you on the bridge within the hour."

I opened my eyes and winced, yeah, it felt like two ice picks were being jabbed into my eyeballs. Once that passed I got a good look at the cryo tech. She is not exactly the worst thing I could have hoped to see when just coming out of cryo; about five foot eight, blonde, hazel eyes, fair skin, and she was standing next to my cryo tube a little bit longer than necessary, a slight, mischievous grin on her face.

I swallowed the protein antifreeze, "Ugh, dear God in heaven." I tried to sit up, pins, needles, and ice picks again.

"Sergeant?"

"Yeah, got it. Bridge, within the hour. Is the rest of my platoon up yet?"

"They are being revived as we speak. Can I help you up?"

Damn, if it wasn't so freaking cold in here, and if I wasn't suffering from eight weeks of "shrinkage" she would have already been going that.

"Thank you, but I think I go it." I swung my legs out of the tube, disconnected the bio sensor leads, and stood. My legs were wobbly, I bent over and stretched my back out. Fraking cryo. I reached for my clothes on the shelf to the right of my tube, got dressed, and looked around the bay. The rest of First Platoon, First Squadron, 2nd Armored Cavalry Expeditionary Unit (Light) was busy getting out of their tubes and dressed. A quick head count came up one short. "Somebody wake up Nigel." I called through the bay, all I got in reply was a distant, disconnected "Roger Sarge."

I was getting nauseous, hungry. I swallowed that crap they make you take before you go into cryo, that crap I already said that tastes like something my ex cooked, well that made me nauseous too. As I remember it was pork ribs baked in a bath of bacon soup, with a few hot dogs thrown in there for good measure, along with way too much salt. Yes, pork overdose is possible. At least I will never have to worry about being the victim of cannibal Jews or Muslims. I think after that meal I was permanently contaminated.

"Dave?" I had made Sgt. Dave Wilson, second squad's squad leader second in command of the platoon. He was a good NCO, his only professional detractor was that he sometimes go a little too excited, and not in a good way.

"Yeah, Jack?" Dave sounded about as good as I felt right at that moment, run over by a dump truck.

"Get the platoon up, get chow in them and start assembling all personal gear at the air lock. I want all equipment field stripped and ready for combat load out by the time we reach orbit."

"Hey, tech?" I didn't bother asking her name. We would dock at Reach, disembark, the _Mark Twain_ would be reloaded and then off again somewhere else. I didn't see the point of being overly friendly with her.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"How far out of Reach are we?"

"Twelve hours, ten more hours in slip space, then the last two hours in normal space."

"Right." I turned away from her and made my way out of the cryo bay and headed towards the bridge.

**Bridge of the **_**Mark Twain**_

"You wanted to see me, Captain?"

"Sergeant, good. I trust you slept well?"

"Good enough Captain. Who can complain about an eight week nap?"

"True, I have no idea where HIGHCOM is sending you, but I am sure you won't be getting that much sleep in the near future, with the Insurrection heating up that is."

"Probably not, Captain. But rest assured, if I can't sleep, neither can they."

"Let's hope not, Sergeant."

"Captain, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Sergeant. It looks like we will be docking at Reach for about a week. The _Mark Twain_ needs some minor repairs to the secondary reactor cooling system. It is on the fritz and we can't make the return trip to Earth without it being one hundred percent. It will make recovery of your equipment from the drop bay easier. We will have to enter high orbit around Reach. We can't dock with a down reactor coolant system, Naval safety protocol. All cargo will be unloaded from our high orbit before repairs can begin. I can arrange for a cargo transfer…have your equipment taken off with the rest of the cargo on board."

"Thank you Captain, but I will contact ARCOM when we are in range, see if they can't assist."

**Auxiliary Cargo Bay 4, Port Side**

The platoon spent the next eleven hours and thirty minutes in the auxiliary cargo bay with our personal equipment. Stripping, cleaning, calibrating, assembling and disassembling every piece of equipment and weapon that was in their individual inventory. Magazines were loaded, stripped, tested, and reloaded.

"Everybody listen up!" I shouted across the bay, ok so the bay wasn't THAT big but it was big enough for 21 Cav troopers to layout enough equipment for a standard rifle company. "We are thirty minutes out from Reach orbit. I want all sniper rifles, M247s, and rocket launchers re-stowed in their crates. At twenty five minutes from orbit the Captain is going to jettison our gear in the drop bay."

"First squad, you have babysitting duty. Corporal Hawthorne, you are in command of first for this operation. You will exit that air lock," I motioned to the left side of the cargo bay to where the personnel airlock was, "with the rest of first squad. You will spacewalk down to the bottom of the ship. When the outer doors to the drop bay open, first squad will go inside and latch on to our gear. It has been cargo strapped together so it will be one large block of crates."

"When set, contact the bridge, they will release the magnetic clamp and you will drift out of the cargo bay and, if the Navy's calculations are correct, you will settle into a geosynchronous orbit fifteen minutes later."

"And if the Navy's calculations aren't correct?" Specialist Tom Dalton, always thinking worst case, actually very useful thinking, it limits surprises.

"If the Navy fudged the numbers, you will slowly drift into a lower orbit, get caught by the planet's gravity well, and burn up on atmospheric entry." Tom likes to think worst case, so do I in fact, so I gave him the worst case end state.

"Oh, that isn't so bad." That elicited a few chuckles from the rest of the platoon. "Recovery?"

"Myself, second, third, and fourth squads will go planet side, secure an Albatross and two Pelicans. We will fly up and get you. Now, IF, the Navy goatfraked the numbers and you started drifting into low orbit, contact Reach star side Search and Rescue. They will fly out and pick you up."

"What about the gear?"

"Try to tether it to one of the SAR craft and pull it back into orbit."

"Roger, comm frequencies?"

"Star side SAR is on E band and have been notified of our operation and are on standby, the rest of the platoon will be on J band. Offset 23."

"Why have they already been notified and are on standby?"

"Well, seeing as how this is taking place in orbit, almost the exclusive purview of the Navy, ARCOM had to notify them. The Navy doesn't think that we can pull it off seeing as how we are Army, and I quote

'The Army has no business doing anything except riding a transport while in orbit above Reach. You are risking the lives of your personnel, and the lives of others that are conducting REQUIRED operations in orbit. If ARCOM is going authorize this unnecessary operation, we will have to notify star side SAR and the Commander, Reach Orbital Defense reserves the right to pull the plug on your "Training Exercise" at any time.'

"Right, and why can't the Albatross and the Pelicans just meet us up here in orbit, dock with the _Mark Twain_ and then take us planet side?" Jed Lake, Squad Leader, Fourth Squad…path of least resistance type personality, solid trooper, he just doesn't believe that sometimes you _have_ to go around the world to get next door.

"Sergeant Lake, don't you value a training opportunity when it is presented? None of us have completed an exoatmospheric recovery before. This is the perfect opportunity. ARCOM has made the requested craft available as soon as we touch down on the airfield."

"Understood Sergeant. Timeline?" Sergeant Hawthorne was pushing ahead with the briefing, understandable, First Squad, under his command would be the ones doing the space walk. One thing I like about Nigel, he often doesn't have time for side conversations or irrelevant questions. Give Nigel his orders and he goes. No questions, no hesitations, in fact, most of First was like that, one reason I choose who I did back when we arrived at Diego Garcia.

"Timeline, we are twenty five minutes out from Reach orbit, twenty minutes out from cargo drop. It will take you approximately ten minutes to get down the side of the ship. The rest of the platoon will disembark once the _Mark Twain _reaches its orbit; the transports to take us off are already on their way up from the surface. It is a twenty minute flight from orbit to the airfield, five for preflight and loading, twenty five minutes from the airfield to your position. Five minutes for complete recovery once we are at location. So, from exiting that airlock to repressurizing the cargo bay on the Albatross…one hour and twenty minutes. So let's say an hour and thirty minutes, that gives us ten minutes in case something does go wrong.

"Well let's just hope it is only a ten minute problem, Sarge. What about oxygen? Our suits only have a fifteen minute reserve."

"Chief Petty Officer Reynolds will have five EVA/life support packs here by the time you are ready to exit the ship. Those will provide you with two hours of O2."

"Roger that Sergeant. Anything else?"

"When I was on the comm with ARCOM they gave us our platoon call sign, we are now Saber Platoon, First Squadron, Second Cavalry Expeditionary Unit (Light). First squad, we are Red, Second is white, Third is blue, and Fourth is green."

"Right, so that means…." Nigel is one of the most intelligent of us but sometimes connecting the dots seems like it is beyond him.

"Nigel, good Lord. You are Saber Red Two, Naomi is Red Three, Tom is Red Four, and Dale is Red Five."

"What is your call sign."

"Umm, Red One, and when Captain Sanborn joins us, he will be Saber Black Six."

"Right, got it."

'I would hope so Corporal, I just drew it in fraking crayon for you."

"I'm tracking Sarge."

"Alright Corporal. Red, get ready for your spacewalk. White, Blue, and Green; let's head to the _Mark Twain_'s dorsal airlock, our ride will be here shortly. Oh, and Hawthorne?"

"Yes Sergeant?"

"Remember to split Red into two teams, our personal equipment crates will be jettisoned out of this airlock."

"Check Sergeant, will do."

White, Blue, and Green squads, in full combat gear picked up their assault packs and headed out of Auxiliary Cargo Bay 4.

**Auxiliary Cargo Bay 4, Port Side**

**Red Squad, Corporal Hawthorne commanding.**

"Alright Red. Get kitted up. Tether your assault packs off your main equipment belt, you won't be able to fit the EVA packs on over the pack." The cargo bay's inner door slid open, Chief Petty Officer Reynolds and two other Navy types entered carrying five EVA packs.

"Chief," Hawthorne walked over and took the pack out of Reynold's hands. "I am Corporal Nigel Hawthorne, thanks for bringing these down," Nigel motioned to the EVA packs.

"Not a problem, where is Jack?"

"Sergeant Storm is with the rest of the platoon heading towards the dorsal airlock. I am in command of the EVA mission, Chief."

"Damn, well good luck Corporal. Contact OPS on the main bridge when you are ready. We are about five minutes out from you guys needing to start your walk."

"Understood, thanks Chief." Chief Reynolds and his two schlepers left the cargo bay. Nigel turned back towards the rest of Red. "Alright, we have five before we exit the airlock. Run diagnostics on these packs, double check your suit seals." Nigel put on his helmet, his neural interface linked with the helmets internal systems, the helmets HUD popped up and he thought 'Comms, Red One'; in the upper left corner of his field of view the COMMS tag started blinking, underneath 'Red One' appeared, blinked, and turned green when the connection went active.

"Red One, Red Two. Over."

"Go for One." Jack answered.

"One, we have delivery of EVA packs, running diagnostics now. We are four minutes from exiting airlock, how copy?"

"Good copy Two. When you contact bridge ops, use the open comm. One out."

"Tom, Dale, Naomi, how are those diagnostics going?"

Naomi answered after getting affirmative nods from Tom and Dale, "EVA packs check out, Corporal. We are good to go."

"Alright, suit up. Naomi and Dale, take the personal equipment crates, Tom, you are with me, let's go for a walk. We have two minutes, Naomi, Dale. Once we are out, start getting the crates strapped together and prepare to exit. Contact bridge ops when you are ready. Jack wants us to use the open comm so everyone stays on the same page during this."

Naomi and Dale responded in unison, "Roger Corporal." Red squad put on their EVA packs and helmets. Once their helmet's HUDs initialized, they smart linked to the EVA packs. In the center, at the top appeared 'EVA Pack Active, Status: 100%, Life Support Remaining: 120 min.' The line underneath displayed additional information, 'Maneuvering Thrusters: Standby, 100% Remaining.'

Red squad, through their neural interfaces, ran diagnostics on their suit systems, all checked in at 100% air tight, pressure seals active. Nigel and Tom moved over to the personnel airlock while Naomi and Dale finished strapping twenty personal equipment cargo crates together and tethered themselves to the module.

'Comms, Platoon Frequency and _Mark Twain_ Bridge Operations' Nigel thought. His helmet comm circuits went active, 'PLT FREQ' blinked and turned green in his HUD. Underneath that, 'Bridge Ops' blinked three times and illuminated yellow. Yellow status on comms generally means 'channel detected, connection not established'. 'Damn' Nigel thought to himself, he accessed his comm encryption settings and flipped over from secure frequency hopping cypher text encryption protocol to single channel plain text protocol (non-encrypted) for the connection to the _Mark Twain_'s internal comm system. After making the adjustment 'Bridge Ops" blinked once and turned green, connection active.

"Saber Platoon, Red Two, comm check."

"Two this is One, good copy, platoon frequency active." Jack replied.

"_Mark Twain_ Bridge Ops, this is Saber Red Two at Auxiliary Cargo Bay 4. Request immediate depressurization and opening of outer airlock personnel hatch with main bay door five minutes after."

"Saber Red Two this is Bridge Ops. Standby for depressurization and opening of personnel hatch outer door with main bay door five minutes later…depressurizing now."

In the cargo bay yellow caution strobe lights lit and klaxons sounded, after two second the yellow strobes turned to red and the ship's AI, Alicia, come over Nigel & Toms comm. "Alert. Alert. Depressurization cycle commencing. Bay will be depressurized in five seconds."

Nigel and Tom made their way over to the personnel airlock hatch. As the atmosphere was let out of the cargo bay Nigel, Tom, Dale, and Naomi's HUDS simultaneously, in the center of their respective fields of view, displayed a blinking 'DANGER, VACCUM DETECTED'. The personnel airlock slid open to reveal the vastness of space.

The artificial gravity was still active in the cargo bay so Reds Two and Four couldn't just float out. They went to their knees and leaned out the hatch. Nigel was first out the hatch with Tom following on Nigel's heels. Nigel leaned out of the hatch and looked down the side of the _Mark Twain_'s hull…thankfully someone with a lick of common sense designed at least this part of the ship, down the entire height of the hull, directly below the hatch, there were rungs recessed into the hull plating. There was no artificial gravity on the hull and the team was not equipped with magnetic boots so Nigel and Tom would have to climb down the hull as if climbing a ladder. 'Too easy." Nigel thought to himself. Nigel and Tom started down the outside of the hull.

"This is Red Two. Red Four and I have exited the bay and are making our way down the hull. Reds Three and Five are standing by inside the cargo bay," Nigel transmitted to Red One and the _Mark Twain_'s Operations Officer.

"Very well," was all the response Nigel got from both his platoon sergeant and the ops officer.

**Bridge of the **_**Mark Twain**_

"Saber Red Two this is Bridge Ops. Standby for depressurization and opening of personnel hatch outer door with main bay door five minutes later…depressurizing now."

"Captain, bay depressurized, outer personnel hatch door opening."

"Very well, lieutenant. Internal bay camera on display two. Start the mission clock." The mission clock, a ten digit countdown clock with red numbers started counting down from ten minutes.

"Aye Captain."

Display monitor two was located to the left of the main display which was located directly in front of the Ops/Helm stations and the captains command chair, against the front bulkhead. "Live feed coming online." Presently the display was solid black, after the operations officer pressed a series of commands on his console the display turned from solid black, pixelized as the picture resolved into live feed at 2500p, ultra high definition (newer UNSC Navy and Air Force vessels boasted 5000p displays or what was dubbed as 'Quantum Definition or QDef for short).

"Ops, run a short diagnostic of the drop bay outer doors and cargo release controls. Let's make sure the Army is spacewalking for nothing."

"Yes ma'am. Running diagnostic," the operations officer called up the controls for the drop bay mechanisms on his display and entered the key sequence for the diagnostic. "I will have the diagnostic results in three minutes. The EVA team is seven minutes from the drop bay at their current speed."

"Very well. Prepare to open cargo bay main doors. Comms, what is the status of the shuttle coming to pick up the rest of the Army?"

"Captain, the shuttle has entered our docking pattern; it will be hard sealed in approximately thirty seconds."

"Understood. Sergeant Storm, did you copy that?"

"Aye, Captain. Saber platoon is standing by at dorsal airlock. We can see the shuttle through the porthole."

**Dorsal Airlock, UNSC **_**Mark Twain**_

The transport shuttle settled in above the hull of the _Mark Twain_ and slowly drifted down above the dorsal airlock. Inside the airlock bay they heard and felt a very solid _thud_ as the shuttle made contact with the hull.

Jack was watching the airlock status panel. The panel had four status indicators, a red rectangle that said 'Docked', underneath the red indicator was a yellow rectangle that said 'Pressure Equalizing', under the equalizing indicator was a green indicator, 'Equalized'; and finally a white indicator that said 'Secured'. Underneath the indicators was a three line LCD display and below that was a keypad with the numbers 1-9, 0, asterisk, and pound (hash) mark, a green button that said 'Enter' and a red one that said 'Abort'. Presently the red indicator was lit, a few seconds later and in sequence the rest of the indicators lit a few seconds apart.

"Bridge, this is dorsal airlock. All indicators good to go, hatch opening" Jack said over his comm. A fifteen foot ramp lowered from the ceiling of the airlock, Jack looked up and saw the hatch to the shuttle part in the middle and the two halves slide sideways into the shuttle's fuselage. "Saber platoon requests permission to disembark."

"Understood airlock. Permission to disembark granted Saber platoon." Jack could almost hear relief in the Captain's voice. Relief that the 'Army Rats' were finally getting off her ship, or relief that this Navy shitbucket didn't blow a seal on the airlock…Jack didn't care either way. He, and the rest of Saber platoon, wanted off this 'tin can' as General Pollack had put it, probably almost as bad as the Captain wanted them off.

Jack walked to the bottom of the ramp , looked up and saw the shuttle's crew chief, he turned on his external speaker. "Request permission to board."

The shuttle crew chief looked down at the soldier at the foot of the ramp, "Just get the hell on board, we don't have time for all that 'request permission' crap."

"Understood Chief." Jack closed off the external speaker circuit and muted the channel to the _Mark Twain_'s bridge; "Saber platoon, you heard the crew chief, let's get the hell off this fraking tub. Move out!" Saber platoon quick stepped it up the ramp, White, Blue, and Green squads went up the ramp into the shuttle. Jack took one look around the airlock to make sure they weren't forgetting anything and then went up the ramp himself, last man out.

On the shuttle, each member of Saber platoon found a spot on the sling seats that ran down the sides of the compartment. Thankfully the seats were deep enough that they didn't have to take off their assault packs. Everyone fastened their five point restraint harnesses and Jack walked down each side to make sure everyone was secure, randomly tugging on the harnesses of the troopers before strapping himself in. The ramp on the _Mark Twain_ started to rise up and the shuttles hatch slid shut. Once the crew chief verified the hatch was sealed he made his way forward into the cockpit and strapped himself in.

Jack, and the rest of Saber platoon, could head the magnetic docking clamps release and they felt an ever so slight jerk as the transport shuttle separated from the hull of the _Mark Twain_ and flew off towards Reach.

**Auxiliary Cargo Bay 4 / Cargo Drop Bay, **_**Mark Twain**_

Jack had noticed that the platoon freq had been quite for a few minutes, "Red Two, Red One. Report status."

"One this is Two. We are almost at the drop bay door. Reds Three and Five should be exiting the auxiliary cargo bay momentarily."

"Understood Two, keep me informed. One out."

"Red Three, Red Two, report status."

"Roger, Two this is Three. Crates are strapped together, Five and I are tethered and ready to exit."

"Understood Three."

Nigel checked his HUD to make sure that the bridge of the _Mark Twain_ was still connected. "Ops, this is EVA team. I am almost to the drop bay and my other element in the cargo bay is ready to exit, confirm."

"Confirmed EVA team. Cargo bay four, standby for cutting of artificial gravity and opening of outer door."

"Operations, this is cargo bay four, Red Three here. We are ready and standing by."

"Standby Red Three. Cutting artificial gravity…now, opening outer door in three…two…one. Outer door opening."

The artificial gravity in the cargo bay was switched off and Reds Three and Five, along with their crates found themselves slowly drifting off the deck. One the main bay door, red lights started blinking and the doors slid apart. Red Three thought to herself 'How cool is that? Space, open, empty…space,' Naomi had been waiting for the opportunity to complete a spacewalk ever since she decided to join the UNSCDF.

"Operations, Red Three. Confirmed, artificial gravity off, bay outer door open. Beginning exit procedure now. Red One, how copy?"

"Three, this is One, good copy."

"Dale, lets sync our EVA packs so we make a clean exit and don't end up pulling in opposite directions. You sync to me on one."

"Roger Naomi," the top center of Dale's HUD, where the EVA pack data was located scrolled another line of text, 'EVA Pack Sync Active, Awaiting link', "ready, link standing by."

"Roger Dale, linking," Naomi's HUD, much like Dales, scrolled additional status data but her's stated a different condition, 'Link Established'.

The two EVA packs linked and synchronized. Naomi and Dale's packs, with input from Naomi's neural interface, started firing Reaction Control System (RCS) thrusters in short bursts. The two Cav troopers, towing twenty personal equipment crates that were strapped together, started gliding out of the cargo bay and in to free space. Five seconds later Naomi, Dale, and the crates had cleared the _Mark Twain_'s auxiliary cargo bay.

"Operations, this is Red Three, we have cleared the cargo bay."

"Red Three, _Mark Twain_ Operations Officer. I confirm, you and your cargo are clear. Sealing bay outer door. Good luck."

"Roger _Mark Twain_, Red Three out. Reds Two and One, how copy?"

Nigel answered first, followed a split second later by Jack, "Roger Three."

Nigel and Tom reached the drop bay doors a second after Naomi's status update. "Operations, this is EVA team. We have arrived at the door, ready for cargo drop."

"Acknowledged EVA team. Standby." The operations officer muted the comm to Nigel and the rest of Saber platoon. "Captain, we have a problem with remote door and atmosphere controls."

"What?" Captain Moore sternly replied.

"Captain, diagnostic revealed that there is a problem somewhere between the main bridge processor and the subprocessor at the bay controls. There are indications of a blown bus somewhere between here and there."

"Frak. Can you reroute through secondary systems?

"Negative Captain. Those circuits and command pathways are all primary isolated systems. Rerouting isn't possible."

"Damnit. What about the control panel at the drop bay?"

"We can't access that panel Captain, the bay access door is still jammed."

"Not THAT one, the one outside. The EVA team should be able to access that panel."

"Checking…yes Captain, that panel shows active. It should work, with heavy emphasis on should, Captain."

"Right, remind me to rip the DC (damage control) Chief's balls off when this is over. Comms, unmute the channel, make sure we still have Sergeant Storm on the line."

"Aye Captain." The comms officer, and the rest of the bridge crew were starting to get a wee bit worried.

"Sergeant Storm, EVA team. We have a problem. I can't open the drop bay doors from the bridge. EVA team, you are going to have to do it manually. Move to the middle of the bay doors, bow side. There should be a panel door with yellow and black stripes around it. Do you see it?"

"Bridge, wait one', Nigel moved to the location directed by Captain Moore, "Got it. Now what?"

"Open the panel. You will see a LCD readout, several status indicators, a keypad, and some buttons below the keypad."

"Roger, got it", there was an ever so slight hint of annoyance in Nigel's tone.

"Lieutenant", the Captain addressed the Ops Officer, "give the EVA team the command code for that hatch, NOW."

"EVA team, ops, enter the following code: star-two-two-beta-three-eight-delta-one-pound. After you enter that code, press the green enter key at the bottom of the panel."

"Copy, command code: star-two-two-beta-three-eight-delta-one-pound-green enter button. Is my read-back correct?"

"Confirmed EVA team, you need to hurry. You have three minutes to make the drop window."

"Understood, entering code now." Nigel started entering the code, thankfully the buttons on the control panel were over-sized to account for someone enter the damnable code with sausage finger-sized space suit gloves on. "Done. I now have two buttons blinking, one green that says "Open", the other is red and says "Abort", do I really have to guess which one to push?"

"STOP! Do you not see a lit button that says 'Depressurize'? It should be yellow."

"Roger I see it, it isn't lit though."

"Understood, push the yellow button and then look at the LCD readout."

"Roger, pressing button," Nigel pushed the button and then looked at the display. Nothing. "Damnit to hell!" Nigel slammed the bottom of his gloved fist against the button, this time the LCD readout scrolled 'Caution: Depressurizing' and then 'Depressurizing Complete'.

"Bridge, EVA team. Depressurization cycle completed. Can I push the green button now?"

"Roger, EVA team. You are go for open."

"Opening." As Nigel pushed the button he could hear someone on the bridge of the _Mark Twain_ yelling 'NO…STOP!', but of course it was too late and unlike the yellow button, the green one worked just fine the first time it was pushed.


	7. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 6, Reach Part II

UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 6, Reach Part II

2523 August 01, 1830 hrs.

UNSC _Mark Twain_

Reach Orbit

* * *

><p><em>From Chapter 5, Reach Part I<em>

"_Roger, pressing button," Nigel pushed the button and then looked at the display. Nothing. "Damnit to hell!" Nigel slammed the bottom of his gloved fist against the button, this time the LCD readout scrolled 'Caution: Depressurizing' and then 'Depressurizing Complete'._

"_Bridge, EVA team. Depressurization cycle completed. Can I push the green button now?"_

"_Roger, EVA team. You are go for open."_

"_Opening." As Nigel pushed the button he could hear someone on the bridge of the Mark Twain yelling 'NO…STOP!', but of course it was too late and unlike the yellow button, the green one worked just fine the first time it was pushed._

* * *

><p>In order to fully appreciate the situation that Nigel and Tom, EVA Team One, has found themselves in, you have to understand the complex simplicity of how an orbital drop bay works and how critical a complete depressurization cycle is to avoiding what is about to happen. Consider that all things are normal, i.e. the drop bay on the <em>Mark Twain<em> wasn't damaged, shoddily repaired, and all internal bay sensors and controls were working properly. In the case of inserting cargo into low atmosphere and having it fall into a planet's gravity well, drop through the atmosphere, and land at a pre-calculated set of coordinates, the drop bay would remain pressurized to some degree (or fully), the outer bay doors would open in one tenth of a second, and the cargo would jettison using the escaping pressure for thrust.

In the current situation, Saber Platoon's cargo is trying to be put into high orbit for follow on recovery. In this case, the bay would be depressurized, the outer bay doors would retract in 3-5 seconds and the cargo would gently float out of the bay, sometimes with the assistance of 'cargo assist rockets'.

The reality of the current situation is that the bay was damaged, shoddily repaired, remote control from the bridge was not functioning, and the bay's internal sensors were malfunctioning. Following normal procedure, the correct codes were entered, the depressurization cycle was thought to be completed, and the outer door should have gently opened. The control panel on the exterior hull of the _Mark Twain_ that Nigel was accessing was functioning correctly (with the exception of the yellow button), but the bay's internal pressure sensors gave a false reading to the control panel and the bridge.

* * *

><p><strong>EVA One<strong>

**UNSC _Mark Twain_**

**Reach Orbit**

"Awwwww Shit!, What's happening OPS?"

"EVA One, false depressurization reading on the drop bay, you have ten seconds until explosive decompression of that bay, get clear!" Captain Moore of the _Mark Twain_ was clearly panicked, in all probability EVA Team One would be killed, and the cargo would shoot out of the drop bay and could collide at high velocity with something else in Reach orbit, possibly causing more casualties.

"Tom, you, me, linked, NOW!" Nigel and Tom moved close together and Nigel initiated the sequence to link their EVA pack's thrusters. "Tom, on 'one' push off." Nigel and Tom pushed off the ventral hull of the _Mark Twain_ in a course that Nigel hoped would parallel the exit trajectory of the cargo. "OPS?"

"OPS, Go!"

"Are there cargo assist rockets on the cargo?"

"Affirmative!"

"Link me, NOW!"

The Ops officer on the _Mark Twain_ entered the codes to give Nigel control of the cargo assist rockets that a very thorough Stu Reynolds had attached to Saber Team's cargo module when it was being loaded back at Earth.

"Ops time hack to open?"

Captain Moore came on the channel, "I told you to get clear!"

"TIME HACK DAMNIT"

"Three…two…one…NOW"

The drop bay doors slammed open, but not completely. The explosive decompression of the drop bay propelled the cargo module out with extreme force and velocity with the edge of the module slamming against a still exposed portion of the drop bay doors. The module shot past EVA Team One, passing within arm's reach of Nigel and Tom, and started to tumble out of control. The force of the escaping atmosphere from the bay caught Nigel and Tom and propelled them along with but behind the module. The module was carrying more velocity than Nigel and Tom and as they fell away from the _Mark Twain_, the module gained distance on them.

"EVA Two, Naomi, Dale. Use your EVA packs and start coming after us. I am going to try to stabilize the module with the CARs."

Naomi answered, "Understood EVA One, on the way," Naomi checked her HUD, the personal equipment crates were on a stable trajectory and would fall into high orbit as planned. "Dale, untether from the crates, ready?" Naomi brought up the EVA pack's navigation suite in her HUD, targeted EVA One and their rogue cargo module and plotted an intercept course. A hash marked circle appeared in her HUD with the text underneath "CALCULATING, STAND BY" and then a second later, "CAUTION, INTERCEPT COURSE EXCEEDS EVA PACK THRUSTER CAPACITY." Naomi rechecked her figures and made sure to account for two linked EVA packs, the software recalculated the course. "READY, INTERCEPT COURSE WILL REQURIE 85% TOTAL THRUSTER CAPACITY. ENGAGE / ABORT"

By this time, Dale had moved up beside Naomi and attached a short tether to her, "Ready."

"Dale, hold on." Using her neural interface she commanded the software to initiate the intercept, the 'ENGAGE' icon in her HUD flashed three times in confirmation and a countdown appeared…'THREE…TWO…ONE…' Naomi and Dale started accelerating, gaining momentum over the first few seconds of the thruster burn. "EVA One, intercept in one twenty seconds."

"Roger Two." Nigel and Tom were within one hundred meters of the run-away cargo module, still being carried by the force of the decompression. Nigel brought up his own HUD and accessed the command pathways for the cargo assist rockets. "Tom, I am going to counter thrust with the module's CARs to slow it down and get us to the module, if that doesn't work, I am going to fire our EVA pack thrusters to get us there. We have to gain control of the module."

"Ready Nigel, let's do it."

Nigel also opened up the EVA pack nav suite plotted an intercept course to the module, cross linked that with the CAR controls, and recalculated his intercept. 'WARNING…WARNING…' flashed on Nigel's HUD. 'CAR THRUSTER CAPACITY INSUFFICIENT.' "Damn,"

"What?"

"This sucks."

"What?"

"Tom, the CAR thruster capacity 'isn't sufficient' to bring the module under control. I am going to deplete the rockets, fire our EVA packs, and we are going to _intercept_ the module."

'Ummm, what did you say _'intercept'_ like _that_?"

"We are going to hit…hard."

"Ugh," Tom made a cross between clearing his throat and grunting, "Yeah, right, no problem."

"Ready?"

"Yeah, let's get this over with already."

"EVA Two, I am sending you updated data, you are going to have to recalculate your intercept after we have slowed down the module."

"Understood, One."

"EVA One and Two, this is the _Mark Twain_, you have another challenge to deal with now."

"_Twain_, EVA One, go."

"On your current trajectory and with your current velocity, you have about three minutes until you impact with a refit and repair facility. I have already contacted its Captain. They are in low power mode, her engines are dead cold, and they won't be able to move out of your way. I am going to contact Reach Orbital Search and Rescue, I suggest you all push off, get clear and wait for pick up."

"All Saber units and _Mark Twain_, this is Saber Actual. I have been monitoring the situation. What is on the other side of the repair platform?"

"Saber Actual, _Mark Twain_, open space, if they can miss the platform that is."

"Understood _Twain_, negative on that SAR call. We can handle this. Nigel?"

"Understood Saber Actual. Tom, ready?"

"For the last time, hit it!"

Nigel fired the CARs on the module at maximum and constant burn, a burn that only lasted three seconds. The module did however slow considerably, it's velocity decreased from 500 meters per second to 350 meters per second. As soon as the CAR burn was complete, Nigel fired his and Tom's EVA pack thrusters and as predicted, they hit the side of the module, hard. Tom and Nigel slammed into the side of the module and their velocity slid them down the long side. Nigel cut the EVA pack thrusters and scrambled for a handhold. They slid three quarters of the way down the module before Nigel found a hand hold and stopped them.

"AAAAAAHHHRRRGGG…damnit…frak!" Nigel couldn't help but yell from the pain of getting his left shoulder dislocated from the jerk of stopping both him and Tom. "Tom…you alright? Tom?" Nigel pulled on the tether connecting them.

"EVA One, Saber Actual, report."

"We are down and secure. Tom is out, knocked unconscious from the impact. Module velocity slowed to three five zero meters per second," everyone on the channel could hear the strain in Nigel's voice. "Moving to the bottom of the module. I am going to use what is left in our EVA packs to try to alter trajectory. We still have," Nigel checked his HUD, updated the display and his calculations to account for the new 'object' in their path, "two minutes to impact."

"Roger, is it going to be enough?"

"Stand by Actual. EVA Two, status?"

Naomi re-calculated EVA Two's intercept course to account for the change in velocity of the cargo module after Nigel fired the CARs, "One, this is two re-calculated intercept at ninety seconds."

"Understood, begin your burn. Saber Actual. If EVA Two can get here in nine zero seconds, the combined remaining thrust from all four EVA packs should be able to give us enough delta-v to avoid the platform.

* * *

><p><strong>Personnel Transport<strong>

**Upper Atmosphere**

**Reach**

Jack and the rest of Saber platoon had been monitoring EVAs One and Two's progress and the current situation they found themselves in.

"Understood EVA One. EVA Two, get a move on. I am going to contact Reach ARCOM field and get our Pelicans and Albatross ready for immediate departure. Just miss that platform and we will be up to get you as soon as possible."

EVAs One and Two winked green acknowledgment lights in Jack's HUD.

"EVA One, this is Two, burning." Naomi and Dale had begun their burn to intercept EVA One and the cargo module. Ninety seconds to intercept.

Jack unstrapped and walked forward to the cockpit of the transport.

"Lieutenant, how long until we land at ARCOM Field?"

"What the hell are you doing? Get back in your damn seat!" The Navy pilot of the transport was more than a little pissed that one of his 'passengers' was in his cockpit.

"Sir, I have an EVA in high orbit that has gone foul, we need to get dirt-side, secure our ships, and back up there ASAP."

"Then contact SAR, they are already on stand-by waiting for your little stunt to go wrong, which apparently it has," there was blatantly obvious distain in the pilot's voice.

Jack decided to put this particular line of BS on hold for a second and activated his COMM direct to ARCOM Operations. "ARCOM ARCOM, Saber Actual, respond."

"Saber Actual, ARCOM OPS, we have been monitoring your situation, how can we assist?"

"We need our Pelicans and Albatross ready to fly ASAP, I also need someone to make the pilot of this transport more cooperative."

"Understood Saber Actual, stand-by."

"Roger."

"Saber Actual, this is ARCOM OPS Duty Officer, patch me through to the pilot."

"Wait one, OPS," Jack paused the connection.

"Lieutenant, what channel are you on? ARCOM wants to talk to you."

The pilot of the transport rolled his eyes inside his helmet, "Channel twenty four, encryption protocol Lima seven. What is going on, Sergeant?" The lieutenant put a little extra into his already condescending tone.

Jack patched ARCOM OPS, the pilot, and himself onto the same channel, using his helmet's COMM gear as a retransmitter. "ARCOM OPS, Saber Actual, you are online with the transport pilot."

"Understood Saber. Pilot, this is Reach ARCOM Operations, how do you copy?"

"Good copy RAO. What is going on here?" Amazing how the lieutenant changed his attitude when talking to the main operations center of a major UNSC Command.

"Saber Actual is on a mission directly under the command of HIGHCOM. You are ordered to comply with his directives. Transmitting authorization now." The pick-ups on the microphone was so sensitive that you could hear the beeping on the ARCOM Ops Officer's console as he entered the commands to transmit the authorization to the transport pilot's HUD.

The authorization from RAO popped up on the pilot's HUD, transparent text scrolling in front of his field of view. "Understood RAO. Will comply but under protest, this is a NAVY," the lieutenant very clearly stressed the Navy part, "transport and if Saber Actual is going to have me do what I think he is, it is a violation of almost every safety protocol governing…"

"Shut. Up." Jack cut him off. "Time to ground side, lieutenant?"

"Did you just tell me to 'shut up'? You might be in command Sergeant, but that does not give you…"

"Shut. Up. Sir." Jack didn't really like repeating himself.

Under his flight helmet, the pilot's face was turning blood red and he was baring his teeth. "What are your orders…Sergeant?"

"Again, Lieutenant, time until we land?"

"Five minutes." The pilot was so pissed not only couldn't he see straight, he could only manage two work responses.

"Not good enough. Max out the engines on this tub, we need to be on the flight line at ARCOM Field NOW."

"Understood, calculating for emergency thrust…go strap in Sergeant, you are going to be on the ground in two minutes, best this 'tub' can do."

"Understoo…" The pilot didn't care if Jack was strapped in or even sitting down, he hit what amounted to afterburners and the transport immediately lurched forward throwing Jack not only out of the cockpit, but into the passenger bay and on his back, "Son Of A…" Jack managed as he was flying through mid-air and slamming down onto the deck. The pilot angled the transport's nose down and the transport entered a steep dive.

"ARCOM OPS, Saber Actual. We will be ground-side in two minutes, repeat, two mikes. How copy?," Jack managed through clenched teeth.

"Understood Saber Actual, have the pilot land at Ramp Five Charlie, repeat, Ramp Five Charlie."

"Roger ARCOM OPS, Lieutenant, did you get that?"

"Yes." The pilot accessed, through his neural interface, the layout of ARCOM Field, with Ramp 5C illuminated in his HUD. He slightly adjusted the controls of the transport to bring them down on an optimal course, the image in his FOV zoomed in and he saw two Pelicans and one Albatross parked on the ramp.

"Sergeant, where to you want me to land in relation to the Pelicans and the Albatross?"

"Sir, can you put us down immediately behind them?"

"Sure, no problem." The venom in the pilot's voice could kill…

The transport continued its 80 degree dive, the surface of Reach and the ARCOM Airfield racing up towards the craft.

Jack, fighting the g-forces caused by the rapid decent, crawled his way back to his sling seat and hauled himself in, re-fastening his five point harness; just as he clicked the last buckle into place he heard a substantial thud over the platoon COMM.

* * *

><p><strong>EVA Two<strong>

**High Orbit Perimeter Line, Sector 8**

**Reach Orbit**

"Roger EVA One, this is Two…burning," Naomi engaged the two linked EVA thruster packs, "intercept in nine zero seconds." Naomi keyed the activation sequence and fired her's and Dale's thruster packs. In their field of view, EVA Two could see EVA One and the cargo module creeping closer as they flew through space.

"Saber Actual, EVA Two, we are burning and on course, intercept time hack holds."

"Understood EVA Two. We will be on the ground in under two minutes. Will contact you when we are airborne in the recovery craft."

"Roger Actual, EVA Two out."

* * *

><p><strong>Saber Actual<strong>

**ARCOM Air Field**

**Reach**

"ARCOM Ops, Saber actual. We will be on the ground in thirty second. Request you immediately clear all surrounding airspace and grant clearance for immediate departure of recovery flights."

"Understood Actual. WILCO, wait one." In the Ops officer left the COMM open and Jack could hear the follow-on transmission in the background clearing all airspace within 500 kilometers of ARCOM Field. "Saber Actual, you have clear airspace for 500 kilometers and emergency departure clearance has been granted…good luck. We are handing you over to ARCOM Field Air Traffic Control, call sign ARCOM ATC. Good luck Saber, ARCOM Ops out."

"ARCOM ATC, Saber Actual, how copy?"

"Saber Actual, ARCOM ATC, we have you on approach, you are clear for emergency landing and departure on ramp five charlie. Airspace is clear, come on in."

"Good copy ARCOM ATC. Saber Actual out," Jack made sure he was still connected to the transport's pilot, "Lieutenant, ARCOM ATC say you can put this thing on the ground."

"I was listening. Standby touchdown in ten."

Jack killed the COMM link with the pilot and addressed Saber platoon, "Saber, we are touching down in ten seconds. Fourth, take the Albatross, Third take the Pelican to the left of the 'Tross, and Second, you are with me in the other Pelican. ARCOM tells me all the recovery craft are powered and ready for flight. As soon as you are aboard, lift off. Understood?"

In unison the fifteen members of Saber platoon sounded off, "Understood Sergeant!" Just then the Navy 'tub' set down, quite roughly, on the tarmac. There was an audible hiss as the cabin depressurized and the ramp to the rear of the craft lowered. The CAV troopers scrambled to get out of their five point harnesses and on their feet. As soon as the ramp was down, the troopers bailed out and made for their designated ships.

Jack was the last one off the transport, as he was making his way towards the rear ramp the pilot, Lt. Eldridge, stopped him.

"Sergeant, stand fast!" Eldridge had removed his flight helmet and was glaring at Jack, "I don't give a shit who you work for or what command you fall under, NEVER give me orders, you get me…Sergeant?"

It was clear that the good lieutenant was quite butt-hurt by this whole experience and response Jack just stood there staring back at him through his helmet's visor. He waited a good five seconds, saying nothing before he turned around and made for the rear ramp, Lt. Eldridge calling after him, "I will be seeing you again, trooper." To that, Jack's only thought was 'douche bag'.

* * *

><p><strong>EVA One and Two<strong>

**High Orbit Perimeter Line, Sector 8**

**On Collision Course with Refit and Repair Facility**

EVA Two slammed into the cargo module much like EVA One did, although this time, when sliding down the side of the module, EVA Two slammed into EVA One. Nigel was able to get a good hold on Naomi before she and Dale bounced off.

"'bout time you two got here!"

"Good to see you too Nigel. What's with Tom? He still out of it?"

"Look, we have no time, Naomi, Dale; link your thruster packs to mine, we have to move down to the bottom edge and fire our thrusters or else we are going to hit the platform. Time to impact sixty seconds."

Naomi and Dale both gave a simultaneous 'Roger'. Nigel, Naomi, and Dale started moving down the module towing a tethered Tom behind them.

"Saber Actual, EVA One. EVA Two has completed their intercept. We are getting into position to try and alter trajectory. We have fifty seconds until impact. What is your time to our intercept?"

"EVA One, we have just lifted off from ARCOM Field. Will intercept you in four minutes. Hang in there."

"Roger, hanging. EVA One out." Nigel and the rest made it to the bottom of the cargo module and positioned themselves so when their EVA pack's thrusters fired the module would move laterally, and they only needed twenty feet.

"Naomi, Dale; link your packs to mine." EVA Two used their neural interfaces and linked to Nigel. Nigel in turn used a command over ride to take control of Tom's pack as he was still unconscious.

"Right, linking complete, standby…," Nigel's HUD suddenly flashed a repeating alarm with an audible warning; _'ALERT ALERT COLLISION IMMENIENT_'. Nigel brought up his pack's NAV suite that showed a three dimensional picture of EVAs One and Two on top of the cargo module barreling towards the quite large and immobile refit and repair facility platform. Nigel programmed in the desired course and the NAV suite did the calculations…which came up short. "FIRING!" The four thruster packs fired simultaneously, pressing the four CAV troopers hard against the cargo module.

'_ALERT ALERT COLLISION IMMENIENT. THRUST INSUFFICIENT FOR PROGRAMMED OBJECT AVOIDANCE TRAJECTORY. TIME TO IMPACT, THIRTY SECONDS'_

"Damn I wish that thing would just shut up!," Naomi, like the other three were starting to get more than a little worried about going splat against a square kilometer of titanium-A battleplate.

'_ALERT ALERT EVA PACK THRUSTER CAPACITY DEPLETED'_

Of course, the visual warning text scrolling across their HUDs wasn't all that annoying, but what is really distracting is that the text is outlined in red, with the red outline and text alternately flashing, in addition, the edges of their visors also flashed a red outline all the way around their respective fields of view, AND there was that damn annoying voice inside your head.

"Jack, how long?" With all but one option exhausted, Nigel wasn't standing on ceremony or protocol anymore.

"Two minutes."

"Venting EVA pack and suit oxygen reserves, that should be enough. Get here quick."

"We are already at max thrust. We'll be there. After you vent, push off."

"Naomi, Dale. Route your suit O2 reserves into the EVA pack and take a deep breath." Nigel brought up the command pathways in for the EVA packs in his HUD, opened the submenu for the EVA pack's life support controls and chose the command to vent the pack's oxygen through the thruster nozzles.

'_ALERT ALERT…' _Nigel shut off the audible and visual alarms. A confirmation prompt appeared in his HUD. Nigel thought-confirmed the command and less than one second later the EVA packs vented. Immediately the team's respective HUDs popped up the 3-D map, they could see it auto-updating to account for the last bit of thrust provided by the O2 venting. Suddenly, superimposed over the 3-D image the NAV suite displayed a message outlined in green : '_TRAJECTORY OPTIMAL OBJECT COLLISION AVOIDANCE CONFIRMED'_ and immediately after another message appeared, this time outlined in the familiar red: '_WARNING EVA PACK OXYGEN DEPLETED, PLEASE CHANGE OXYGEN CANISTER IMMEDIATELY_.'

'Damn' Nigel thought to himself as he and the rest of the EVA team saw the top of the repair and refit platform come into view and the rest of the 'object' slid by, a little too close for comfort.

"Pushing off," Nigel said over the COMM. Being in top physical condition, any one of the four of them could hold their breath for at least two minutes, but if something else went haywire, it wouldn't matter and they would all asphyxiate.

"Understood Nigel." Jack had brought up a timer in his HUD just before the EVA team vented their O2 and set it for two minutes. It had already been thirty seconds. He 'moved' the timer to the upper right side of his HUD and then brought up the EVA teams vitals which showed three of the four with elevated heart rates, increasing body temperature, slowing respiration, and decreasing blood-oxygen content. The vitals were moved to the upper left area of his HUD. In the center he brought up a 3-D map of the area that showed the two Pelicans, the Albatross, the refit platform, the cargo module, and the EVA team slowly separating from the module and drifting off into open space. 'At least we don't have to worry about any more object collisions,' Jack thought to himself.

"Saber Green, you have the cargo module. Blue, back me and White up on personnel recovery, we should be able to get all four, but if we miss someone, you pick them up." Three green acknowledgement light winked in his HUD.

"Saber Actual, Albatross. We are coming in too hot. We are going to do a 180 and let our momentum carry us to the module, going to fly it right into the cargo bay. Suggest you do the same."

Jack, already in the cockpit of the Pelican looked down at the pilot, Specialist Todd, second squads best pilot. "Todd, can you? Or do we need to come in over them and brake hard?"

Specialist Todd brought up the Pelican's main HUD on the canopy and displayed the situation in 3-D. "Standby, one point five kilometers to EVA team," Todd worked the flight controls and the Pelican flipped around, tail pointing towards the EVA team, he decreased thrust to 20%, not enough to cancel out the momentum that the Pelican was carrying but enough to begin to slow it down. "Prepare to depressurize troop bay. Time on…twenty seconds. Sealing cockpit." The Pelican's cockpit door slid shut, maintaining the atmosphere.

Superimposed over the 3-D display, Todd brought up a wire frame cross section of the Pelican with four green dots several inches behind the tail, a line appeared between the bay and the green dots, halfway in the middle of the line was a numeric readout that displayed the distance to 'target' which was rapidly decreasing. Right in front of his field of view on the main canopy, Todd brought up another wire frame of the Pelican. This one looking head on with the green dots representing the EVA team centered in the wire frame of the troop bay, distance to 'target' displayed under the cluster of dots.

Todd was constantly adjusting the Pelican's attitude with RCS thrusters to keep the EVA team centered so that they would drift right into the troop bay. "Cutting artificial gravity to 10%, opening ramp. Distance to target, 300 meters."

The Cav troopers in the bay all braced themselves for the reduction in artificial gravity, looking out the back of the troop bay, they could see the four suits of the EVA team steadily getting closer.

Somewhere in the middle of the Pelican flipping around and assessing the situation on the map displayed on the Pelican's main canopy, the EVA team's vitals flat lined, they were asphyxiating. "EVA team vitals are down! As soon as they are in the bay, re-engage gravity and re-pressurize the troop bay. Get those EVA packs off and start CPR." Four acknowledgement lights winked in Jacks HUD.

The team in the back of the Pelican carefully moved about, getting ready to grab the EVA team when they drifted into the bay. One of the team members got to the med-pack in the Pelican and pulled out the O2 tank and the defibrillator, and began powering it up.

Jack came over the platoon COMM, "EVA recovery team standby…one hundred meters…seventy five…fifty."

Todd began increasing the Pelican's thrust, slowing their approach, "Thirty percent thrust…forty…fifty percent thrust…." The four green dots representing the EVA team steadily gained on the wire frame displayed on the cockpit canopy.

"Thirty meters…ten…five…," Jack counted off.

"Thrusters to ninety percent…ninety five…ninety nine percent thrust!" Todd was still working the RCS thrusters, keeping the team perfectly centered.

The EVA team drifted perfectly into the center of the troop bay, slowly falling to the deck, an effect of the ten percent artificial gravity. "THEY'RE IN AND DOWN! SEAL THE BAY! REPRESSURIZE…NOW!," one of the troopers exclaimed over the COMM.

Specialist Todd worked the controls and hit the 'emergency close' control on one bank of the Pelican's cockpit controls. The ramp slammed shut and there was a loud hissing has the troop bay re-pressurized with oxygen, Todd also increased the artificial gravity to 100% of normal gravity. The cockpit hatch hissed open, a slight pressure differential between the cockpit and the troop bay.

Jack immediately moved into the troop bay to assess, all four were on board and on the deck. He checked his HUD, "All vitals are still flat lined, get those EVA packs and their helmets off!"

Jack really didn't have to say anything, they were all well trained and knew what they needed to do. Saber White hit all the necessary quick release buckles and stripped off their EVA packs. Next, they hit the emergency release switches, breaking the air-tight seals between their helmets and suits, pulling off their helmets and being careful to lower their heads to the deck. Subsequently they started unbuckling their body armor, tossing that aside, and unzipping their air-tight flight suits and thermal under suits, exposing their bare chests.

Three of the four members of 2nd squad began CPR while the fourth was preparing to hit Tom with the automatic external defibrillator, or AED. Jack went to the trooper's side, reached in the med-kit and grabbed the tube of AED conductive jelly, flipped open the cap and gave the paddles a glob of the stuff. The trooper rubbed the paddles together, placed one in the middle of Tom's chest and the other on his left ribcage, "CLEAR!"

"GO!" Jack made sure that he wasn't touching Tom, the suits that they all wore, as well as the body armor was non-conductive, but you can never be too sure.

The trooper pushed the 'fire' buttons on the paddles, sending millivolts of current through Tom's heart, Tom's back muscles contracting sending his chest arching upwards. Nothing.

"AGAIN!"

"CHARGING…", the AED gave off a series of beeps indicating that its internal capacitor was ready for another discharge. "CLEAR!".

Jack checked Tom's vitals in his HUD, the spikes from the shocks were there…but no heartbeat. "HIT HIM AGAIN!"

"CLEAR!" Nothing.

"DAMNIT," Jack pushed the trooper out of the way, got next to Tom, clasped his hands together in a single fist and hammered Tom in the chest, right over his heart. Jack checked HUD vitals, the line representing Tom started to oscillate the tiniest bit…Jack reared up to hammer Tom's chest again, right when he was about to come down, the vital line in Jack's HUD sprang to life.

Tom drew a gasping breath and flailed his arms about, shocked and a bit shaken. His eyes shot open.

"TOM…TOM!"

In a scratchy, groggy voice Tom muttered, "I'm fine".

Jack rechecked HUD vitals, Tom was stable. Dale and Naomi were conscious too. Nigel was still flat lined.

Jack looked over his shoulder at where Nigel lay in on the deck of the troop bay. The trooper with the AED had already moved over to him and started shocking him, it wasn't doing any good despite three shocks and two increases in the millivolts put out by the AED. Jack grabbed the med-kit, quickly located the epinephrine shot and moved over Tom, Dale, and Naomi to Nigel.

"Sergeant, we can't get his heart going. CPR and shocks aren't doing anything."

"MOVE!" Jack moved up next to Nigel, pulled the sheath off the epi-shot, located the appropriate space between Nigel's ribs, placed his middle finger on the rib above, and index finger on the rib below…stabbed and depressed syringe's plunger, immediately withdrawing the needle.

Nigel bolted upright, gasped for breath, and flailed his arms about; smacking Jack in the helmet. "Nigel, you alright?"

"Yeah." Nigel looked over at Tom, Dale, and Naomi; all sitting upright against the side of the Pelican, taking slow deep breaths from O2 tanks. "Yeah Jack, I'm alright. My chest hurts like hell though, what did you do?"

Jack held up the syringe with a four inch needle protruding out.

"Damn Jack. Didn't your mom ever tell you that drugs aren't the answer?", Nigel quipped and gave Jack and the other troopers a half grin. Tom, Dale, and Naomi just started at him.

"Yeah, you're fine." Jack stood up, "Monitor them," Jack moved towards the cockpit. "Todd, sitrep."

"Sergeant, we are moving over to the Saber Green's position. They have already recovered the cargo module and the other equipment crates are almost on board."

"Understood, Todd," Jack killed all the unused displays in his HUD and brought up the COMM display, "All stations this channel. EVA teams One and Two are on board and revived, they are stable. Cargo recovery complete."

"Saber, _Mark Twain_, excellent job."

"Saber, this is Reach Orbital SAR, we've been monitoring, you guys are nuts…good job."

"Alright, cut the chatter, clear the channel. This is ARCOM OPS, great job today Saber platoon. Standby for ARCOM ATC."

"Saber flight, this is ARCOM ATC, standby for return vectors. Medical support will be standing by where you land."

"Good copy ARCOM ATC, standing by." A few seconds passed and the return vectors appeared on the main HUD in the Pelican's cockpit. "Vectors received. Saber flight, form up on the Albatross, wedge formation. Let's go home."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Constructive Criticism would be much appreciated as would be reviews.<strong>_

_Stay tuned for Chapter 7. Reach Part III_

_Hi folks, on 31 March 2012 I started a website for this facfic, the entire story will also be available there. The purpose being is to provide a format of this story with richer content. There is no flash or shockwave, just a better experience and some graphics. Check my profile for the link to my homepage._

_h t t p : / / s i t e s (dot) g o o g l e (dot) c o m / s i t e / s a b e r s i x a c t u a l / h o m e (of course you will have to take out all the extra spaces)_


	8. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 7, Reach Part III

**UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 7, Reach Part III**

**2523 August 01, 1930 hrs.**

**ARCOM Air Field ATC Tower**

**Reach**

* * *

><p><em>From Chapter 6, Reach Part II<em>

"_Saber flight, this is ARCOM ATC, standby for return vectors. Medical support will be standing by where you land."_

"_Good copy ARCOM ATC, standing by." A few seconds passed and the return vectors appeared on the main HUD in the Pelican's cockpit. "Vectors received. Saber flight, form up on the Albatross, wedge formation. Let's go home."_

* * *

><p><strong>ARCOM ATC<strong>

**ARCOM Air Field**

**Reach Military Complex**

**1930 hrs.**

"Saber Flight, you are cleared for immediate landing. Put down at hangar area ten, confirm."

"ARCOM ATC, Saber Flight. Confirm we are clear for landing hangar area ten. ETA two minutes."

Saber Flight's Albatross Heavy Lift Transport and two D77H-TCI Pelican transports were returning from the fouled cargo recovery in Reach orbit. What was planned to be a rather easy operation ended up being nothing short of an orbital clusterfuck. The two EVA teams, due to a blown trajectory, almost impacted a repair and refit facility, a one kilometer square titanium-A battle plate space craft, at just short of 400 meters per second. As it turned out there were no casualties but Nigel seriously dislocated his shoulder, Tom was knocked unconscious from the initial impact, and all four members of First Squad almost asphyxiated.

Due to some excellent support from ARCOM and a lot of quick thinking on the part of Nigel and Naomi, disaster was narrowly averted. The recovery was accomplished and the EVA teams were revived. Presently, the three ship flight was rapidly descending to the surface of Reach.

"ARCOM ATC, Saber Actual. Confirm that medical personnel will meet us at hangar area ten?"

"Confirmed Saber Actual. Standby for Commander ARCOM, Saber Actual."

'Ugh' Jack thought to himself. Granted, victory was snatched from the jaws of defeat on this one, honestly a little too close even for him. "Roger ATC, standing by."

"Saber Actual, ARCOM Ops. Change your COMM channel to delta band, UVHF secure protocol."

Jack accessed his helmets COMM system, he put the platoon COMM band on standby and changed over to the requested band and activated the ultra VHF encryption software. The upper left corner of his HUD displayed 'BAND:DELTA-UVHF SECURE *ACTIVE*', the audio squelched and beeped twice, the auditory confirmation of an active, secure connection.

"ARCOM OPS, Saber Actual on secure line, do you copy?"

"Roger Saber Actual. Standby for Commander ARCOM."

"Sergeant First Class Storm, this is Brigadier General Baker."

"Yes General."

"I am sending an MP detail to pick you and bring you to ARCOM Operations Center for debriefing."

Jack had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, "Understood Sir. Orders for the rest of the platoon?"

"We are allotting you exclusive use of area ten. It belongs to your unit for the duration of your layover here on Reach. Unload your equipment from the Albatross you borrowed, OPS wants their ships back. We will cover the rest during your debriefing."

"Understood, Sir." The line went dead. Neither BG Baker nor ACROM OPS signed off. Jack closed the connection to D-band and reopened the platoon net.

"Saber White One, Saber Actual." Jack called for Sergeant Dave Wilson, Saber Platoon, Second Squad leader. Seeing as Nigel was out of commission for the time being, Dave would have to take over the platoon.

"Go for White One."

Jack looked over his left shoulder into the troop bay of the Pelican. The EVA members of First Squad all seemed to be doing alright. 'I almost lost them…' he thought to himself. Granted, he was good friends with all 20 members of his platoon, but Nigel, Naomi, Tom, and Dale were his best friends and his squadmates.

"White One, I have to go over to ARCOM Operations Center (OPSCEN) as soon as we touch down. You are in command of Saber until I get back. We are going to be living in hangar area ten for the foreseeable future. Get the 'Tross and the Pelicans unloaded and taxied back over to ramp five c, contact ARCOM ATC, they will give you directions and let you know if they want them somewhere else. Make sure you thank the ground crews on behalf of the Cav. The rest of Red will be going over to ARCOM Medical to get checked out."

"Understood Actual."

"Thanks, Dave. Keep your COMM online."

* * *

><p><strong>ARCOM Air Field<strong>

**Hangar Area 10**

**Reach Military Complex**

**1935 hrs.**

The three-ship flight that composed 'Saber Flight' came into the ARCOM Field landing pattern according to their received vectors. The ships reformed into a single file line from the wedge formation they flew down from orbit in. Once the ships were over three of the landing pads that belonged to area ten, they settled into a hover, rotated forty-five degrees to port, and put down. The pilots of each of the ships began power down sequences, the deafening noise from the space-capable turbo jet engines died down to a low, deep whine. The ramps dropped on each of the ships, from one Pelican, Third Squad CAV troopers piled out and made for the Albatross. Fourth Squad, in the Albatross got the large, rear cargo doors open and the ramps extended in order to start offloading the massive cargo module they recovered from orbit.

Specialist Todd had landed his Pelican with Second Squad and the EVA teams on the pad closest to the two ambulances that were awaiting them. Before Todd even had the Pelican on the ground and the troop bay ramp down, the UNSC Army medics were already waiting with four gurneys. Jack watched from the Pelican's cockpit door as the medics rushed aboard and with the help of Second Squad's troopers, got Nigel, Naomi, Tom, and Dale out of the troop bay and onto the gurneys. They were immediately rolled over to the two huge 'Mobile Intensive Care Unit' ambulances and quickly loaded. The drivers hit the lights and sirens and sped off towards ARCOM Air Field's MEDFAC (UNSC Army-speak for hospital). As the ambulances left the flight line, they revealed two large, OD green SUVs with a squad of UNSC Army military police standing in front of them.

Jack took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Helmet under his left arm and his M392 Designated Marksman Rifle hanging by the single point sling and holding on to it by the pistol grip, he made his way out of the Pelican and approached the first SUV. Presently, one of the MPs walked towards him.

"Sergeant First Class Jack Storm? I am Lieutenant Devereaux."

Jack came to the position of attention, released his grip on his rifle, and saluted the lieutenant, "Yes Sir. I am Sergeant First Class Storm."

The lieutenant returned Jack's salute, "As you are aware, Brigadier General Baker has ordered you to accompany us to ARCOM OPSCEN. Please come with me. You can disarm and leave your gear and weapons here, Sergeant."

"Am I under arrest, Sir?"

"Not at all Sergeant. Why?"

"In that case, Sir. I will be bringing my gear with me." With that Jack walked past the lieutenant and headed towards the first vehicle. The MP standing next to the right rear door opened it as Jack approached. Jack took one look over his left shoulder at the rest of Saber platoon as they were beginning to get organized into work details to get the Albatross unloaded. Jack climbed in the back of the first SUV, the MP that opened the door shut it and the rest of the MPs that were standing around the vehicles got in. With the engines already running, the drivers of the two vehicles threw them into drive and gunned the engines, they sped out of the hangar area and off towards the ATC tower, taking a left between a row of buildings and disappearing out of site from the rest of Saber platoon.

* * *

><p><strong>ARCOM OPSCEN<strong>

**ARCOM Air Field**

**Reach Military Complex**

**1945 hrs.**

The two SUVs pulled up in front of a plain looking two story building. The MPs got out first and opened Jack's door. "Sergeant, will you follow us please?" It was Lt. Devereaux that took the lead and walked them all to the front door, a door guarded by two more UNSC Army MPs on the outside, and a double security 'airlock' door on the inside.

Lt. Devereaux, another MP, and Jack entered the antechamber, the outer door hissed shut. The inner doors opened after they had all been scanned for biological or chemical residues. The three of them walked up to the reception desk, Lt. Devereaux addressed the sergeant sitting there.

"Good evening, Sergeant. Lieutenant Devereaux and Sergeant First Class Storm to see General Baker."

"ID cards please gentlemen." The reception sergeant took the lieutenant's and Jack's IDs, ran them through the standard card reader that Jack had seen a dozen times already. "Sir, access authorized and confirmed. Let me get you an escort." The sergeant pushed a few buttons on his terminal and within seconds another MP appeared. "If you two would please follow your escort. He will take you to the armory, apologies Sergeant Storm, you will have to disarm, only authorized individuals are allowed past this security station with weapons larger than a sidearm."

Jack tensed his jaw, he didn't like going anywhere without his weapons, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. "Understood." Jack and the lieutenant followed the MP escort past the reception desk, down a hallway, and stopped in front of a key code access door, the word 'ARMORY' laser etched into the battle plate door. The MP escort entered his access code and the door slid open.

"Sergeant Storm, there are lockers inside, please remove your body armor, chest webbing, and leave your rifle, sidearm only from here on out."

Jack entered, the lieutenant and the escort waited outside. The armory was quite spacious, rifle racks running down the center of the room, lockers lined the long walls, the rear wall had a pistol and submachine gun rack, the weapons resting sideways against the wall on pegs. Jack found an empty locker close to the door and began stripping his gear. Helmet on the top shelf, body armor and chest rig on the hangars, assault pack on the bottom, his M392 resting on its butt, leaning against the back of the locker. All Jack had left on was his under suit, flight suit on top of that, pistol belt with M6C in its drop leg holster on his right side with his combat knife sheathed behind the drop leg platform. His pistol belt had mag pouches for his four other M6C magazines and a few other pouches for odds and ends. Jack squatted and opened the top pouch on his assault pack, reached in and retrieved a hand COMM and micro boom mic headset, he wanted to have the ability to stay connected to Saber should the need arise. He tucked the COMM and headset into one of the pockets on his flight suit and gave himself a once over look, 'Not too bad I guess, considering I am going to meet the Reach ARCOM Commander' he thought to himself as he rechecked and straightened out a few wrinkles in his flight suit. He drew his M6C, dropped the mag to verify there were bullets in it, and looked at the loaded chamber indicator on the right side of the weapon's slide that indicated a dry chamber. He reseated the magazine, re-holstered it and made his way back out of the armory to find the lieutenant and the MP escort waiting.

* * *

><p><strong>Office of the Commanding General<strong>

**Reach ARCOM OPSCEN**

**Reach Military Complex**

**1950 hrs.**

"Come in, have a seat Sergeant Storm. Lieutenant, you and the escort are dismissed. Have the escort wait outside for the Sergeant."

"Understood, General." Lieutenant Devereaux and the MP escort exited the General's office, the door slid shut.

Jack was standing at attention in front of the General's desk.

"Hell of a first day, would you say Sergeant?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle, sir."

"Indeed. So, Sergeant First Class Jack Storm," General Baker started, "General Pollack and Colonel Thorton back on Earth had some very good things to say about you in their reports. At ease, son."

Jack's stood at ease and his left eyebrow arched, questioning what report the General was referring to. "Thank you General."

"As soon as that Navy garbage scow you rode in on entered range, the AI dumped all the mail traffic from Earth. It seems like in a very short time you have impressed the hell out of General Pollack and I must say, myself. It was very impressive the way you and your team handled the situation up there in orbit. Most UNSC Army units wouldn't have even tried that stunt, and your unit, with only basic EVA training managed to, under extreme circumstances, execute a dual EVA spacewalk, have it go tits up on you, your EVA teams managed the situation, saved the equipment, accomplished the mission, and got everyone down here alive."

"Yes sir. That is about the sum of it." Jack took a quick look around the General's office. It actually looked quite similar to General Pollack's office back on Diego Garcia Station.

"Tell me, Jack. What are the main contributing factors' to your success up there today?"

"I would have to say that it was the quick thinking of the EVA teams and the support immediately given to us by ARCOM OPSCEN, Sir. Without either of those, well I think I would be up there still scraping my people off a repair and refit platform."

"Correct, Sergeant. Do you know why you were given the immediate support you were?"

"Sir, I would have to say that losing in front of the Navy isn't really an option for the Army right now. They are not too happy that HIGHCOM has re-tasked us and given us more of a role to play in space. They feel like the Army and Air Force are shitting in their back yard. Sir."

"Very true, Jack. We have to prove not only to the Navy, but to HIGHCOM that we can handle the expanded roles we are filling. Now, you are going to prove to HIGHCOM that the UNSC Marines are not the only ones that can fulfill a rapid reaction force role. Are you up to the challenge, Sergeant?"

"Sir, the Cav is _Always Ready_."

"Sergeant," the General set his jaw, squared his shoulders, and looked dead into Jack's eyes, "don't give me that 'esprit de corp' crap. I want to know: Can your unit handle being deployed to a forward area, outside of firmly held UNSC territory, without support or back up, acting as the UNSC spearhead into an area that is coming more under insurrectionist control every day, with the mission to support the UNSC and CAA mission and objectives and to engage and defeat insurrectionist opposition to that mission…for the next two years."

Jack looked squarely and defiantly back into the General's eyes, "We WILL accomplish our mission, sir. Or die trying." Jack held the General's gaze for a few seconds, broke eye contact and then quickly scanned the General's office, the hair on the back of Jack's neck was standing up again…something about this room was bothering him, he just couldn't place it.

The General chuckled at Jack's response, "Well let's hope for more of the former and little to none of the latter."

"Yes, let us _hope_, sir."

"Alright, next order of business. The Air Force's _Questionable Morality_ is still on her shakedown cruise. She will be here in about a month. There were some problems a week ago when she left out of Reach, and your CO, Captain Sanborn won't be here for a month after that. So you have a two month layover here on Reach. How do you think you would like to use that time?"

Jack had already been thinking about what needed to be done while his platoon was in transit here, "Well sir, we need to draw our mobility assets, I have an open and unlimited requisition from HIGHCOM, I think that should be my first order of business. My troopers need some range time, and we need some time to integrate those mobility assets into our tactics. Additionally, if there is any additional training that we can pick up while here, we would like to avail ourselves of that opportunity."

General Baker thought about the young Sergeant's response. 'Interesting,' he thought to himself, 'these soldiers haven't had any real leave since their graduation, the first thing units ask for when they pull in to Reach.' "Ok son. That sounds good to me. Are you comfortable remaining in command of your platoon? Or do I need to assign an officer until Captain Sanborn get's here?"

"I'll keep the job, sir. Until I am dead, you find someone better, or Captain Sanborn arrives."

The General smirked at that, 'Ballsy' was the one word that came to his mind. "Ok, the platoon is still yours. But I am going to assign a liaison officer to you, you are not under his command, he is just there to make sure you get everything you need while here. He will report to hangar area 10 by 0700 tomorrow morning. If you have any immediate needs, see the reception sergeant on your way out."

"Thank you sir, we will appreciate any help we can get, we have a lot to do."

The General stood, Jack came to attention and saluted, the General offered his hand. "Good luck Sergeant Storm."

"Thank you, General." Jack about faced and walked out of the office. As the door closed Jack stopped in his tracks, a faint hint of cinnamon, 'Probably nothing, you are over reacting' he thought to himself. The MP escort was standing a few feet down the corridor.

"Where to now Sergeant Storm?" The MP escort was a corporal named Julius Cranton.

"Well Corporal, I need to go get my kit out of the armory, after that we need to stop by the reception desk, then the ARCOM motor pool."

"Follow me please, Sergeant."

As they walked down the corridor Jack dug his hand COMM and headset out of his flight suit's left chest pocket, put the ear piece in, and powered on the COMM unit. The COMM unit display showed it was connected to the ear piece and then it took several seconds to sync to the Reach global network, presently it flashed CONNECTED. READY. Jack scrolled through the Saber platoon group he had programmed in back on DG, selected Dave Wilson from the contact list, hit the submenu for an encrypted connection and pressed the green call button.

* * *

><p><strong>Hangar Area 10<strong>

**ARCOM Air Field**

**Reach Military Complex**

**2000 hrs.**

Several kilometers away, in the 'Area 10' cluster of hangars, Sergeant Dave Wilson's helmet started beeping. He had taken it off and set it down on his personal equipment crate while he was directing the offloading of the Albatross and the organization of equipment crates and people. One of his squad members heard his helmet, picked it up and ran over to where Dave was trying to make order out of a little bit of chaos.

"Dave, your helmet misses you." The trooper said as he walked up to his squad leader.

"Huh?" Dave heard the beeping of an incoming call. "Oh, thanks." Dave took the helmet and put it on. His HUD was displaying an incoming call from Jack, he activated the COMM circuit.

"Go ahead, Jack."

"How are things going over there?"

"Things are great, we have the Albatross unloaded and it and the two Pelicans have been handed back over…hold on a second," in the background Jack could hear Dave yelling, "NOT THERE damnit, THAT one goes there and THIS one goes here! Get on it trooper', "sorry about that. Things are going, we are breaking down the module, stacking the crates in the same groups they were in at DG Station."

"Outstanding, Dave. I am done here at ARCOM OPSCEN, I am heading over to the MEDFAC to check on the rest of Red Squad. After that I will be back there at the hangars. I am going to have OPSCEN send over a few transports, get the platoon rotated out for chow, finish breaking down the gear, and then get everyone down for some rest. Post a roving guard, two hour rotations. First formation will be zero six hundred."

"Understood, Sergeant."

* * *

><p><strong>ARCOM OPSCEN<strong>

**ARCOM Air Field**

**Reach Military Complex**

"Alright, out here." Jack killed the COMM. In the time it took to make that call to Dave, Jack and his MP escort had made it back to the armory. "I'll just be a few minutes Corporal."

"Take your time Sergeant."

Jack entered the armory, and donned all his kit. He threw his assault pack over his right shoulder and grabbed his helmet off the shelf and attached it to his pistol belt via d-ring, there was a little metal loop inside the helmet for just this purpose. He threw his single point sling back on, with the loop running over his right shoulder and under his left arm, grabbed his M392 DMR from the bottom of the locker and quick-clipped it to the sling's attachment point. He exited the armory and followed his escort to the reception desk. On the way there he dug out his data pad and powered it on.

Jack and his MP escort reached the reception desk a minute later. "Sergeant," Jack addressed the reception NCO, "can you please upload the contact details for the liaison officer General Baker has assigned to my unit?"

The desk sergeant took Jack's pad, "Let me see if the General has entered the order yet, one minute." The desk sergeant turned his attention back to his terminal. "Here it is, the order was just updated in the system, Captain Forsythe, Daniel is your liaison officer. Hold on, let me forward him his orders." He went back to his terminal, entered the commands and sent the orders to Captain Forsythe and uploaded his contact details and a copy of the orders to Jack's pad.

"Here you go Sergeant," he handed the pad back to Jack.

"Thank you, now, I who do I talk to in order to get some transport?"

"I can handle that for you as well, what do you need?"

"Two troop transports capable of ten pax plus cargo, and one SUV. Driver's for those vehicles would be a plus."

"Not a problem. How are two, two and a half ton cargo trucks and a 4x4, 4 passenger plus one driver SUV?"

"Perfect, thank you Sergeant."

"How long will you need these?"

"Probably a week. We should have our own vehicles by then."

"Great, I am transmitting the authorization to your pad. Your escort will take you to the dispatch office." The NCO again turned to his terminal, entered the commands and ten seconds later the authorization hit Jack's pad.

"Thank you, again. Sergeant." Jack and his MP escort left the building through the front doors, the same way they came in.

"Sergeant Storm, the dispatch office is this way, about a five hundred meter hike, you up for it or do you want me to get a car?"

"No I can hack five hundred meters, lets go." Jack and the escort made their way through ARCOM land and a few minutes later arrived at the dispatch office.

Five minutes with the dispatch NCOIC and the SUV and two trucks arrived at the front gate. Jack dismissed the corporal MP escort, and climbed into the SUV.

"Good evening, Sergeant." The SUV driver was a kid, well 18 but compared to Saber platoon, he was a kid.

"Evening Private. Do you have COMMs with the two trucks behind us?"

"Roger that, Sergeant."

"Relay to them that I need them to proceed to ARCOM Air Field and report to Sergeant Wilson, he is in command there. I need you to take me to the MEDFAC."

"No problem, Sergeant." The private put the SUV in gear, got on the vehicle COMM and relayed the order to the two cargo trucks. At the same time, Jack got on his COMM to Sgt. Wilson and gave him the heads up to expect the two trucks.

* * *

><p><strong>ARCOM MEDFAC<strong>

**ARCOM Air Field**

**Reach Military Complex**

"I'm looking for the four Cav troopers that were brought in a few hours ago."

"Like the ones from that thing up in orbit?"

"Yes, the ones from 'that thing'." The intake clerk was quite fetching to be sure, young, short cropped dirty blonde, tanned, athletic…Jack; however, has a continual problem with pretty girls that cannot express themselves without the use of the words thing, stuff, uh-huh, like, umm, and wow (when it isn't called for).

"Just a moment, lemme check on that for you." She was cute and did give Jack quite a nice smile.

'Lemme'…forgot to include that one in the list…

The intake clerk worked her terminal for about thirty seconds, "Umm, Sergeant Major?"

"Sergeant First Class," Jack replied, even toned, no compassion or understanding for this young woman's incompetence. Yes, incompetence, intentional incompetence…the worst kind. Jack took a good look at her and her ID card, an ID card that was clipped to her scrubs over a very perky left breast…civilian.

"Oh, right, sorry. Two of them are ready for discharge, one is being monitored, and the last is in surgery."

"Surgery?" Jack let a little more surprise into that than he had wanted. "Where are they?"

"The two that can leave are in the ER waiting room, one is on the second floor for monitoring, and the last one is still in the OR."

"Thank you, miss. Which way to the elevators?"

It giggled and smiled again. Jack was contemplating punching her in her uterus…she should not procreate. "Umm, down the hallway to the left. You will see the elevators there."

Jack made it up to the nurse's station on the second floor, he didn't have to ask, he could hear Dale's and Naomi's voice slightly over the beeping of medical monitors and the hiss of ventilators. Like all hospitals the air was cold, a medicinal-bleachy smell permeated everything, even the poly-crete, white washed walls. Jack followed his ears, found the room they were in and paused before going in.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He knew two of his people were alright, the third in this room was either Tom or Nigel. He hoped it was Tom, if Nigel was in surgery it would most likely be for torn ligaments from the shoulder dislocation. He rounded the corner and entered the room.

Naomi was the first to see Jack enter, "At ease!" she sounded off. She and Dale immediately stood up.

Immediately, barely after the words left her mouth Jack let loose an "As you were." Dale and Naomi, already on their feet, relaxed.

Nigel was in the bed; heart monitors hooked up, oxygen mask over his face, his arm in a sling tight against his chest. Nigel was; however, conscious.

"You three alright?" Jack moved to the foot of the bed, picked up the chart that was hung there, he read the first page, flipped through the next three.

"We are alright, Sergeant." Naomi spoke for the three. "We have been thoroughly checked, scanned, poked, prodded, and sampled, no worse for the wear."

"Outstanding. So Nigel, how much longer are you going to pretend that there is something wrong with you just so you can get a sponge bath from that cute nurse just outside?"

"Shit, Sergeant. My arm is fine, but they are insisting on keeping me here for observation because YOU stabbed me in the heart with a syringe."

"Yeah well I thought you might have a problem being dead, smartass," Jack quipped.

The three of them chuckled. "How bad is it?"

"The doc said I have some torn ligaments, tendons, and muscles. They put the shoulder back in just fine. They said it will be a week before it heals up and I am good to go."

"Right, well stay on top of it, you might need that arm where we are going."

"Don't worry, Sergeant. If it doesn't heal right all that means is I will shot about as bad as you!" Nigel and the others started laughing.

"Alright. You want one of these two to baby sit you until tomorrow when they release you?"

"No, I'll be alright."

"Good, what is the deal with Tom?"

Dale spoke up, "Don't know. He was fine on the ride here, they took him for an MRI and then went straight to surgery. Sorry Sergeant, you are going to have to talk to the doc."

"No problem, alright, you two," Jack motioned at Naomi and Dale, "get your gear and meet me down in the front lobby," Jack looked at his watch, "five minutes."

Naomi and Dale both 'Rogered' and left the room.

"Give me a call on the COMM when they release you, I am going to go check on Tom."

"Understood, Sergeant."

"Oh and Nigel?"

"Yeah?"

"That was a hell of thing you did up there."

"Thanks Jack."

Jack half grinned at Nigel, "See you tomorrow."

Jack walked out of the room and went to the nurses' station. He found out that Tom had knocked his head hard enough to cause an inter-cranial bleed. He was in surgery getting holes drilled in his head and pumped full of coagulant to seal off the blood vessel the burst. They said that with the bleed, plus the lack of oxygen, it was too soon to tell if there would be any neurological damage.

Jack left his contact info with the nurse and went down to the lobby, he found Dale and Naomi waiting.

"Oo…Oo…have a wonderful night Master Sergeant," it was Ms. Perky boob uterine punch.

'Ugh', "Sergeant First Class, miss." Jack kept walking, didn't even turn in the intake clerk's direction.

Once outside Dale asked Jack in a low voice, "Sergeant Major?"

"Don't ask!" The three made their way to the SUV and sped off back to the air field.

* * *

><p><em>Well there it is...Chapter 7. Hope it doesn't bore anyone to death!<em>

_As always, you can check my Google Site for this Fan Fic at h t t p : / / s i t e s . g o o g l e . c o m / s i t e / s a b e r s i x a c t u a l / h o m e_

_Just remember to take out all the extra spaces!_

_Constructive criticism would be much appreciated. For those of you who want more action...don't worry it is coming!_

_Thanks for reading, Saber Six Actual, out._


	9. UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 8, Reach Part IV

_From Chapter 7, Reach Part III_

_Jack left his contact info with the nurse and went down to the lobby, he found Dale and Naomi waiting._

"_Oo…Oo…have a wonderful night Master Sergeant," it was Ms. Perky boob uterine punch._

'_Ugh', "Sergeant First Class, miss." Jack kept walking, didn't even turn in the intake clerk's direction._

_Once outside Dale asked Jack in a low voice, "Sergeant Major?"_

"_Don't ask!" The three made their way to the SUV and sped off back to the air field._

* * *

><p><strong>UNSC Cavalry, Chapter 8, Reach Part IV<strong>

**2523 September 05, 0900 hrs.**

**Long Range Sniper Course**

**Reach Military Complex**

**Reach**

"Target…dismount, stationary, to the left of the orange drum…range, four point nine eight nine kilometers…wind, three kph left to right," Naomi had volunteered to spot for Nigel on his final qualification after his shoulder had healed.

"Identified," Nigel's neural interface, smart linked to his SRS scope system zoomed in, he adjusted his crosshairs to cover the target's chest cavity. The scope's software adjusted Nigel's zero to account for humidity, wind, range, and barometric pressure.

"On scope…"

"On target…"

"Fire when ready…"

"Engaging." Nigel slowly let out his breath while squeezing the trigger of his SRS-99D-S2. Since his shoulder healed he had put over 800 rounds through this rifle, the 'rehabilitation' for his dislocated shoulder, Nigel knew exactly where the trigger broke. A barely audible, metallic snap-click and the weapon's hammer dropped. The rifle kicked less than a M392 DMR thanks to the advanced recoil dampeners. The bullet, an enhanced super match grade 14.5 x 114mm Armor Piercing, Fin-Stabilized, Discarding Sabot round flew down range at 2000 meters per second, impacting the five kilometer distant target two and half seconds later.

"HIT! Target down!" Naomi let a little excitement creep into her voice.

Unfortunately Saber platoon wasn't the only unit on the sniper range that day. Jack made sure that all Saber platoon members were intimately familiar with the SRS, although there was only one other person in the platoon that could hit a 5 km target, everyone else qualified at 2,500 meters, the UNSC standard. The other unit on the range was an ODST scout sniper section, 5 ODSTs. One sniper, one spotter, and three security.

"Lucky shot, _Army_. Any ODST sniper can make that shot, but I guess for you Army guys, what, one in a thousand of you can do that?"

Nigel had not even bothered to look up from his scope, "Re-engaging." Nigel immediately ripped off the three other rounds in the rifle's magazine as fast as he could pull the trigger. Nigel dropped the empty mag from the receiver, checked the chamber, safed the weapon, and the stood and faced the Marine.

The ODST sniper laughed, "You expect me to believe you just scored three hits on a five k target on rapid fire? Gimme a fucking break." The other ODSTs there started laughing, after all, there was no way in hell _ARMY_ puke could make those hits.

"Naomi, give our ODST friend here your spotting scope, please." Nigel held the snipers stare, a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. Naomi stood and backed off from her spotting position that was just to Nigel's left.

The ODST sniper, chuckling to himself all the way, got into the prone and sighted in on the target. He stopped chuckling. "Alright, yeah, but I bet you one hundred credits that you can't do that again." The other Marines hooped and hollered, cajoling profanities.

"One hundred credits…is that the best the five of you can do? How about a shoot off? Me against you."

"Oh you are on _Army_, what are the stakes?" Marine, ODST, cocky.

"Eight rounds…head shots…fifty five hundred k target. No more than a four inch shot group, twenty seconds to engage all eight rounds. No spotters. Highest score wins. How does that sound to you?"

"That is insane, nobody can make those shots. Maybe one in ten thousand, definitely no Army sniper can make those," the ODST paused for a second, "alright, what do I get WHEN I win?"

"Well, there are twenty of us," Nigel turned to the rest of First Platoon, First Squadron, 2nd Armored Cavalry Expeditionary Unit. "Scouts, cough it up! One hundred credit a trooper, let's go, give it up!" There was no questioning, no whining; every Cav trooper coughed up the credits and handed it all to Jack.

"Alright, there you go, two thousand credits."

"Not good enough," the ODST puffed up his chest and crossed his arms, "I win I get the money, AND your rifle!" The other ODSTs let out a mixture of 'yeahs' and 'that's right Sarge'.

Without a second of hesitation Nigel responded, "Deal."

"Wait a second, what do you want if you win, not like that is going to happen though." Marine, ODST, arrogance.

"I want your ODST jump wings, all five of them." You could hear a chipmunk fart from a hundred meters away, even the light wind rustling through the trees stopped at that very second. It was if Nigel was challenging the very right of God to exist.

The ODST sniper turned and looked at the rest of his section, he got affirmative nods from all of them, "Alright _ARMY_, you're on."

The two men shook on the terms.

"By the way _ARMY_, I think you should know, I am number twenty three."

"Number twenty three? You ODST guys don't even get to keep your names?" Nigel quipped without missing a beat.

The ODST grinned, "Number twenty three of one hundred, the Chancellor's One Hundred. The one hundred top shooters in the UNSC."

"Oh," Nigel paused, "your mother must be very proud."

The ODST sniper grunted. "Watch your tongue before I rip it out."

"Whatever dude, just get your damn rifle." Nigel, like Jack and most of the other Cav troopers had a very low tolerance for bullshit.

"Sergeant Storm, can you contact the tower, have then raise the targets?"

"No problem." Jack hopped on the COMM to the range tower and a few seconds later, five thousand five hundred meters down range, two targets lifted.

The ODST retrieved his sniper rifle and two magazines from his team's Warthog, not a gun truck, but a troop transport model. He took the firing lane two to the left of where Nigel had been firing from. He placed his rifle, two magazines to the left. He looked at Jack.

"Sergeant, you seem to be the senior NCO here…"

"Right. Firers! Take your positions!" Nigel and the ODST went prone behind their respective weapons, "Lock and load one, four round magazine," the firers did as instructed. Magazines clicked home into the weapons, bolts slammed home as rounds were chambered. "Firers, you have twenty second to engage your target eight times. Head shots at five five hundred k, most hits wins. Rotate you selectors from 'safe' to 'fire', commence firing on my mark," a barely audible click click as Nigel and the ODST readied themselves. Jack set the countdown timer on his watch for twenty seconds with a five second countdown. He pressed the button on his watch and waited two seconds, "three…two…one…MARK!"

Nigel slowed his breathing, steadied his mind. He blocked out everything else, all there was in the world for him was this time, this place. In this moment the world stood still, Nigel's finger was married to the trigger, he knew exactly where it would break when he squeezed it. He was barely conscious of his actions to reload the rifle after the first magazine.

The sixteen round cacophony of 14.5 x 114 mm lasted eighteen seconds. Nigel and the ODST secured their weapons and stood. The ODST had a very self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Firers, off the line." The two took four steps back from their firing positions. Jack moved up to the line and went prone behind Naomi's spotting scope to evaluate the targets. Everyone on the firing line, the eighteen other Cav troopers and the four other ODSTs were dead silent while Jack checked the targets.

Jack stood, walked back over to where the ODST and Nigel were standing, "Marine, you can recheck the targets if you want, but the score is eight to six," the Marines whooped and hollered at their victory, proclaiming themselves the continued masters of the universe, "in favor of Army."

The ODSTs immediately stopped high fiving each other, stopped their incessant cursing of the Army, their faces went expressionless. "WHAT?" it was the ODST sniper.

"Like I said Marine, you can check the targets if you want."

"Yeah, yeah, I think I will." The Marine got down behind Naomi's spotting scope. After a few seconds he stood and walked over to Nigel.

Nigel met the stare of the Marine sniper, "I think there is something that you five owe me?"

"Marines, give'em up." The ODST sniper collected the ODST Drop Wings from each of his other four teammates and handed them to Nigel. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm number three."

There was a look of puzzlement and incredulity on the ODST's face.

* * *

><p>The last month had been busy for Saber platoon. Tom had to have a few holes drilled in his head to relieve the pressure from his intracranial bleed he suffered during the fouled EVA over Reach. Luckily he had recovered with no detectable dame bramage.<p>

Nigel went through four weeks of rehab that culminated in a shoot off with an ODST sniper, his prize was five sets of ODST Drop Wings.

With the assistance of the liaison officer, Captain Dan Forsythe, Saber platoon drew all of their mobility assets from ARCOM. The inventory included twenty each of D77H-TCI Pelicans, AV-14 Hornets, UH-144 Falcons, F-99 Unmanned Combat Arial Vehicles, Albatross Heavy Lift Transports, M12 Force Application Vehicles or Warthogs, M12G1 Warthog Variant (Warthog with mounted Gauss cannon), M831 Troop Transports (Warthog with no turret), and M274 Ultra-Light All-Terrain Vehicles (the ever awesome Mongoose). Twenty of ONI's 'Black Widow' stealth satellites appeared in the inventory (ONI was really pissed about that, but they had no choice but to hand over not only the satellites, but the encryption codes, performance specs, and uplink systems to the Air Force).

In order to provide the capability for a bit more 'punch' if needed, M1120 series Stryker Mod XXI armored fighting vehicles were also requisitioned, five of every major variant; M1126 Infantry Carriers, M1127 Recon Vehicles, M1128 MGS (Mobile Gun Systems), M1130 Command Vehicles, M1132 Fire Support Vehicles, and M1133 MEVs (Medical Evacuation Vehicles). Granted, the design is a direct throwback to the 20th, but with modern refinements, enhancements, and weaponry, they were positively leathal.

Back on Diego Garcia Station, General Pollack had asked Jack if he wanted to start a small war on Tau Theta. Jack didn't want to start a war, he wanted to try to prevent one from happening, and loose as few people as possible in the process. In his mind, if that means he brings absolutely overwhelming firepower to this picnic, then so be it.

The mobility asset request and issue only took two days. Hangar Area Ten at ARCOM Airfield was flooded with ground vehicles and aircraft. All of vehicles were modified to better suit the capabilities and tactics employed by the new Cav. Target acquisition, fire control, surveillance, communications gear, engines, armor, and weapons systems were upgraded and augmented on every vehicle now in first platoon's inventory. Over half of the equipment and weapons that were contained in the mountain of equipment crates brought from Earth went onto or into those vehicles. The modification of all of these vehicles called for pulling engineering and maintenance detachments from every ARCOM command on Reach, as well as design engineers and technicians from Misriah's Reach manufacturing facility, AMG Transport Dynamics, and a host of other UNSC suppliers and contractors.

The Warthogs were outfitted with accurized M41 LAAG triple barrel anti-aircraft guns on some variants, and M68 Gauss Guns on others. All 'hogs were modified to coaxial mount either a MG460 Automatic 40mm grenade launcher or a M247 General Purpose Machine gun. The windscreens were cut in half, leaving only the driver protected; the passenger seat/vehicle commander was given a weapon mount for either an M460 or M247 on a three segment articulating swivel arm. The on-board ammunition load for the main weapons was increased fifty percent over UNSC standard. Each vehicle was equipped with a M19 SSM Rocket Launcher, rocket reload crates were bolted to both sides of the bed, small arms ammo storage boxes were bolted to the armor plating on the outside of the vehicle under the driver's and passenger's 'doors'. The upgrades to the mechanics of the vehicles included a reinforced chassis, upgraded suspension, engine, and power plant (One Hog was completely totaled on the testing range, the chassis bent and cracked, the engine overheated and threw three rods, the power plant spiked and fried all the onboard electronics), and the suspension blew, taking out the a-arms and half shafts, in fact, the left front wheel sheared off and went rolling down range).

The Hornets and Falcons received upgraded flight control systems, full sensor and communications upgrades, improved engines for more lift and thrust, and each was mounted with a MG460 auto grenade launcher on one side, and a M247 on the other. One particularly intelligent upgrade to the Hornets was the addition of bench seats on the skids (no more standing up on the thing and trying not to get thrown off) and personnel retention straps hook up points so those riding on the bench seats could clip in so they don't fly off during some crazy flight maneuvers.

The Pelicans were outfitted with upgraded systems much in the same manner of the Hornets and Falcons. Drop hatches were added into the 'blood tray' of the Pelicans, enabling those on board to fast rope out of craft during tactical insertions, keeping the Pelican up to fifty feet off the ground. Fast rope winches were installed in the ceiling to lower and retract the ropes and the drop hatches were of course tested for pressure seal so the ship would remain air tight during space flight. Weapons racks were added and spare weapons and munitions were added to every Pelican so that the troopers could rearm if needed and get back into the fight at full combat effectiveness.

Four Pelicans and four Falcons were converted into two each, air ambulances and C3 (Command, Control, Communications) platforms. Similarly, two Albatrosses were converted to mass casualty evacuation/intensive care air ambulances and two rapid re-equipping platforms that carried enough weapons and vehicles to get two squads of the platoon fully re-armed and mobile with ground and air assets (Hornets and Falcons).

The Stryker XXIs were armed with M41s, M68s, M247s, MG460's, and the MGS variant with an 90mm M512 Smooth Bore High Velocity Cannon, just like the M808B Scorpion Main Battle Tank.

During this process one thing became readily apparent to Jack and the other NCOs of Saber platoon…they didn't have enough people. Thank God for an open requisition order from HIGHCOM that covered not only equipment, but people. The UNSC Air Force chopped enough pilots, technicians, and air craft mechanics to cover the air assets, and ARCOM did the same to keep everything wheeled rolling (ok, so no drivers, the Cav would take care of that). Additionally each squad had a UNSC AF Pararescueman attached and two combat surgical units were attached to the platoon. Platoon hell, it was looking more like a Troop sized element now (Troop is Cav-speak for what in the infantry is a Company, even though the assets they had were enough to equip an infantry battalion).

Most of the equipment crates that were brought from Earth were now empty, the only crates that still had gear in them were the ones that contained the electronics gear to set up a BDOC (Base Defense Operations Center) and JOC (Joint Operations Center). Yes, they were going to have to build a base on Tau Theta when they got there (did I forget to mention the platoon of Combat Engineers that was attached to Saber platoon?)

Building a base, that meant BDOC, JOC, billets, chow hall, landing pads, armory, base defenses, MEDFAC, etc. A platoon of engineers and all their equipment.

To help with base defenses, Jack also brought along six automated stationary gun turrets dual mounted M202 XP Machine Guns that they modified with one M68 Gauss Gun and one MG460 auto grenade launcher, a quad surface to air missile pod, FLIR (Forward Looking Infrared Radar), Light Amplification (Night Vision), and thermal sighting systems; a few kilometers of razor wire, land mines, metal piping for boom arms at the ECPs (Entry Control Points), five million cubic meters of premixed, spray polycrete, and enough one and two inch titanium-a battle plate to make the walls and ceilings of every structure to be built a plate of titanium-a sandwiched between polycrete, not to mention doors for the armory, etc.

Enough extra weapons were brought to completely re-arm and equip both the Colonial Militia on Tau Theta Prime and the Provincial Police Force on Tau Theta Two. Ammunition, one million rounds for each weapon type in the platoon inventory with an additional million rounds that would stay on the _QM _as reserve_._

There is a ton of other stuff that was brought; needless to say, Saber platoon WAS equipped to basically destroy the whole planet if they had to.

Destroying the whole planet…that brings us to the UNSC AF _Questionable Morality_. She was carrying the really hard hitting stuff. The UNSC AF was given sole custody of all the nuclear munitions that would be included in the packing list for this little picnic out to the middle of nowhere. Not that HIGHCOM didn't trust Jack and his band of merry marauders, it was just the way HIGHCOM wanted it.

Two days after Nigel's shooting match with the ODST Scout Snipers, the _Questionable Morality_ finally arrived. She spent another week in dry dock with an army of techs and engineers going over all her systems and flight recorder data to make sure she was one hundred percent mission capable. The week in dry dock complete, the _Questionable Morality_ settled into a high orbit over Reach and then the fun began. The fun of getting all of Saber platoons and the Combat Engineer platoons vehicles, air craft, and containerized equipment loaded into and onto the ship, not to mention the _QM_'s assigned compliment of Longswords, Shortswords, and XYSS-1000 Saber Space Superiority Fighters (the 'X' denoting a prototype), their associated equipment, munitions, fuel, spare parts, pilots, mechanics, and technicians loaded; the flight crew was already on board and settled in.

That brings us to the _Questionable Morality_ herself. She is the first in a new class of UNSC Air Force vessels. Jack had spent the entire month going over her specs, especially in relation to how much equipment he could fit onboard. The _QM_ was officially designated as a 'Light Assault Carrier' but looking at the specs and comparing them to several other Navy classes of vessels, the Air Force apparently had a different idea of the meaning of the word "Light".

The _QM_ is nine hundred and forty two meters of state of the art ass kickery in every way. The most advanced quadruple plated, honeycombed hull design, triple redundant flight systems, twin main MAC cannons, two twin micro-MAC turrets, one on the ventral hull and the other on the dorsal hull on the bow end of the flight deck. Thirty, one hundred millimeter Gauss Cannon close in weapon systems, twenty ship to ship missile launchers. The main forward battery, while not a MAC based platform, fires fifty inch projectiles at half the speed of light. Lastly, there are sixteen, thirty inch lateral batteries; eight port and eight starboard.

The _Qm_'s flight deck ran six hundred meters along the dorsal surface of the hull. At six hundred meters long, two hundred meters wide; the flight deck had enough room to magnetically clamp down the ship's entire compliment of space craft…or a an insane quantity of shipping containers. The flight deck has 12 lift elevators, forty docking collars (magnetically clamped ships dock at the collars and allow the crew to move back and forth). Under the flight deck are two hangar decks, both with elevators to the flight deck and lateral airlocks to cycle ships between the hangar deck and space. The main MAC cannons run half the length of the ship just below the horizontal center line of the ship. The three lower decks contain a hangar deck for the UNSC Army's ground vehicles and cargo storage, the second ventral hangar deck is for their air and space craft. The lowest deck is outfitted with cargo drop bays (brand new ones!), Pelican and Albatross drop bays, and even an ODST regulation SOHEV drop bay with forty launch tubes (NAVCOM insisted, and no, the Cav isn't rated to use them).

The twenty decks in between contain crew quarters, two, twenty-five bed MEDFACs, auxiliary cargo bays, munitions magazines to supply all ships weapons systems, four armories, equipment lockers, a machine shop, recreation facilities, DFACs (dining facilities), and anything and everything else needed for the ship to operate.

The ship's systems were so complex that it was fitted with two AIs. One AI to run the ship's systems and an aggressive AI to manage all aspects of combat operations. Meredith ran the ship, Isabella ran combat. Either AI was capable of taking over for the other, it would just task their systems almost to their operational limit. Considering the division of labor between the two AI's, Meredith could run the _QM_'s primary, secondary, and tertiary systems simultaneously while Isabella could fly the ship as nimbly as any fighter jock while using the ships advanced combat sensor pallets to independently target every weapon on the ship. All while managing the orbital and groundside battle space while the full complement of AF and Army forces were deployed and engaged in extreme combat maneuvers.

The _Questionable Morality_ isn't a space ship, it isn't even a warship. It is a predator; a predator possessed by a duality of consciousness with a thousand razor sharp fangs and claws; imbued with the will, desire, and instinct to use them. It's primary purpose…to hunt…to kill. Effortlessly gliding through the endless sea of space, silently stalking her prey among the stars.

* * *

><p><strong>2523 OCTOBER 25<strong>

**Aboard **_**Questionable Morality**_

**High Orbit Perimeter Line**

**Reach**

During Saber's extended stay on Reach, the only additional training that the platoon completed was a one week crash course on starship operations, and a four week Close Protection course designed to provide high and low profile personal security details to dignitaries and heads of state. Upon completion of the course, ten armored SUVs were added to the platoon's inventory. Jack had wondered how, with everything else going on, the mods to the vehicles, etc. was he able to get the platoon rotated throught the course by squad and also complete a platoon level protection detail exercise. His answer, in the Cav, where their was a will, there was a way. Period.

Orbital space around the _Questionable Morality _had become incredibly busy, Jack and the members of Saber Platoon, with assistance from ARCOM LOGCOM and the cargo and logistics section of the _Questionable Morality_ had spent the last week, 24 hours per day moving the platoon's equipment from ARCOM Field to orbit. Additionally, the pilots, planes, and technicians for the _QM_'s air wing was brought on board.

With Saber platoon on board and settled in, and the arrival of the air wing, all that was left was the arrival of Captain Sanborne, Saber Platoon's commanding officer. In fact, the captain was one of five Cav qualified officers in the whole of the UNSC Army. He was in route to Reach, the other four were spread out in the inner and Outter colonies doing God knows what. They surely weren't commanding other Cav units, Saber was the first graduating class.

The captain of the _Questionable Morality_, UNSC Air Force Colonel Stephen Wickman, decided that it would be a good idea for the air wing and Saber to begin training together in order to build unit cohesion and to get tactics worked out and SOPs finalized and trained. The process had been going well, the air wing put up a 24 hour Combat Air Patrol (CAP) and CSAR (Combat Search and Rescue) was on standby and running recovery drills. The CSAR consisted of AF pilots with a Cav squad on board one of the Pelicans designated and equipped as a CSAR bird. Star and ground side recovery drills were compeleted of both pilots and Cav troopers.

Jack, along with first squad was currently on CSAR duty when the civilian transport bearing Captain Sanborne appeared in system and on course for Reach orbit.

* * *

><p><strong>Reach Orbital Traffic Control<strong>

**Star Dock #1**

**Reach**

"Unidentified vessel this is Reach Orbital Traffic Control. We have you on our sensors, please transmit IFF for identity verification." The OTC tech on duty was staring at her screen, it showed the sector of Reach orbit that was covered by Star Dock #1's Orbital Traffic Control Center. "Unidentified vessel, this is Reach OTC, please begin transmitting IFF for identity verification." The tech waited again, "Civilian vessel, do you copy? This is Reach OTC." the tech tried several more times to raise the unidentified vessel on every frequency she could transmit on. Following protocol, she alerted the center's duty officer.

The tech keyed the COMM for the internal channel to the D.O. "Duty Officer? This is inbound OTC, copy?"

"Go for Duty Officer. Sicilia, what's up?"

"I have an inbound track, not transmitting IFF, not responding to hails." Sicilia ran the configuration of the vessel against the database using telemetry from the closest satellite. "Telemetry suggests that inbound track matches the configuration of a scheduled inbound civilian transport, designation is DGH-99034, no name."

"Probably a down transmitter, what is their position, course, and speed?"

"They are on an inbound trajectory through sector eight. They are still five minutes out from IFF boundary, and it looks like they are running at flank speed…standby D.O." The tech reconfigured the sensor systems on the satellite closest to the inbound ship. "D.O., new satellite telemetry indicates they are on a collision course."

"What are they going to collide with and how much time?"

"They are going to collide with US!, time to collision…ten minutes at present speed."

"Crap. Alright, I'll alert Reach Orbital Defense Command. What intercept assets are available in the area?"

"Reach ODC's CAP is on the other side of the planet…wait one…the UNSC AF _Questionable Morality_ has a local CAP up and they have a CSAR unit on standby."

"Right, get on the COMM to the _Questionable Morality_ and tell them to intercept and have them launch their CSAR. If that inbound contact doesn't respond to CAP directives, I want it boarded. If is a civilian transport and I don't feel like having ODC put a Super MAC round through a bunch of civies today; and get me a designation for this contact."

"Roger, will inform. Contact designation is 'Bogie 38'."

* * *

><p><strong>Bridge, <strong>_**Questionable Morality**_

**High Orbit Perimeter Line, Sector 8**

**Reach**

Until now, the crew of the _Questionable Morality_ had been exclusively involved in preparing for departure to the outer colonies. The entire ship had been involved in loading operations and had only fielded their local CAP two days ago. Mostly consisting of training flights, no one really expected any kind of 'action' while in orbit above Reach.

"Captain! Priority COMM traffic from Star Dock One OTC. They have an unidentified inbound track, sector eight. They want our CAP and CSAR to intercept and assess."

"Understood, Lieutenant. OPS!"

"Captain!"

The bridge crew's collective blood pressure was already rising, adrenaline was beginning to flow. Most of the crew of the _Questionable Morality_ was green. Most officers, NCOs, and crewmen were new to the AF, green as green gets. This would be their first real situation that they had ever dealt with. The captain on the other hand, had been handpicked for this assignment, a veteran of several UNSC campaigns, he already had 15 years under his belt in the UNSC AF and the _QM_ was his third command.

"Sound 'General Quarters'. All hands to battle stations. Wave off any incoming cargo transfers. Secure all loading bays."

The OPS officer began working her console, klaxons sounded all over the ship, the lighting on the bridge went from white to blue. Officers, techs, and crewmen came flooding onto the bridge to man unoccupied bridge stations.

"Engineering, bring main reactor to full power, Helm, plot intercept course. Weapons, bring main batteries and MAC guns online, get me a firing solution on that contact."

The COMM officer cut in, "Designated 'Bogie 38', Captain."

"Right, Weapons, did you get that?"

"Affirmative, Captain. Main batteries and MAC guns coming online, weapons hot in thirty seconds. Firing solution to Bogie 38 in forty five seconds."

"Flight OPS."

"Captain!"

"Who is on CAP?"

"Helios Flight, Captain. The CAG (Commander Air Group), call sign 'Helios 11' with Helios' 12, 13, and 14."

"Relay to Helios flight the situation and orders to intercept, who is on CSAR?"

"CSAR call sign is Pharaoh One with Saber Red Squad aboard. They are on the pad and ready for launch."

"Very well, launch CSAR and relay same orders."

"Understood, Captain."

* * *

><p><strong>Combat Air Patrol (CAP)<strong>

**Vicinity of **_**Questionable Morality**_

**Major Russ Feldman, Flight Leader, CAG**

**Call sign: Helios 11**

**High Orbit Perimeter Line, Sector 7**

**Reach**

"Understood Flight OPS, Helios Flight WILCO." Major Russ Feldman, Commander of the _QM_'s Air Group or CAG, like most other UNSC AF personnel assigned to the _QM_ was a green CAG, having just been promoted two months ago and due to an outstanding service record had been given an opportunity not often afforded to newly promoted Majors. By all rights he should have been the CAGs Executive Officer, not the CAG proper, but he certainly wasn't going to argue the matter with his superiors.

Helios Flight consisted of four XYSS-1000 Space Superiority Fighters and had been on CAP for two hours out of a four hour rotation. Helios' 12 through 14 were on CAP with him. Good pilots that he was able to bring with him from his last assignment, they had all been flying together for two years.

"Helios Flight, confirm you all copied our new orders?"

Helios' 12 through 14 acknowledged in sequence.

"Lock intercept course into your NAVs, lets flip around and punch it out!"

Helios Flight had been on a bearing 180 degrees off from Bogie 38. The pilots, almost in unison, worked the thrust vector and RCS thruster controls on their fighters, turned a 180 loop, reoriented towards Bogie 38 and pushed their engines up to full power.

"Flight OPS, Helios One One, we are on intercept course, time to intercept two minutes."

"Understood Helios, CSAR is in the air and vectoring in for intercept as well. Call sign Pharaoh One."

"Roger Flight OPS. Helios out. Pharaoh One, Helios One One, copy?"

* * *

><p><strong>Ventral Flight Deck<strong>

**CSAR Pelican**

**Callsign 'Pharaoh One'**

**High Orbit Perimeter Line, Sector 8**

**Reach**

The CSAR Pelican with Jack and the rest of Saber Red had been on standby for five hours out of a six hour rotation. The bird was sitting over one of the drop bays at the bottom of the _Questionable Morality_. The Pelican's systems, while on standby, remained in low power standby, the flight crew and the Cav troopers never more than one hundred feet from the ship.

When the ship went to 'General Quarters', the flight crew and CSAR team barreled back aboard, pilots in their seats, troopers standing by in the troop bay, rear ramp down.

"Pharaoh One, Flight OPS, immediate launch. Your orders are to intercept Bogie 38. CAP is already enroute, once on station, report status and standby for orders."

When the pilots started receiving the transmission they began working the Pelican's controls to bring the craft to operational status. By the time Flight OPS was done with their transmission, Pharaoh One was ready to fly.

"Understood, Flight OPS. Pharaoh One launching in ten seconds." The pilot increased thruster power and lifted the Pelican three feet off the deck.

"Dock Control, Pharaoh One ready for launch."

"Understood, inner door opening." The drop hatch under the Pelican opened and Pharaoh One lowered into the airlock, with the inner hatch closing above it just as quickly as it opened.

Through the Pelican cockpit's canopy, all the pilots could see were the smooth, white walls of the airlock, various warning placards and red and white striped caution markings covered the walls. Red warning klaxons were lit and rotating.

"Pharaoh One, Dock Control. Standby for depressurization, cutting of artificial gravity, and opening of outer door."

"Pharaoh One copy, we are sealed and ready for launch." The pilot of Pharaoh One gave the ships controls a once over, all systems green. The pilot looked to the external atmospheric sensors and saw that in the space of one second, the drop bay's atmosphere went from 'normal' to vacuum and that artificial gravity was cut. One second after that the outer doors slammed open. The pilot hit the Pelican's dorsal thruster controls and it dropped out of the bay and into open space.

'Flight OPS, Pharaoh One, clean launch, we are clear."

"Roger Pharaoh One, confirm you are clear."

The pilot brought up the Pelican's HUD, the intercept course to Bogie 38 was already laid in and illuminated. The pilot activated RCS (Reaction Control System) thrusters, flipped the Pelican around and increased the main engine thrusters to max output.

"Pharaoh One to Flight OPS, time to intercept three minutes at max burn. I have Helios Flight on HUD and COMM."

"This is Flight OPS, understood."

The whole process had taken less than twenty seconds.

"Helios Flight, Pharaoh One, good copy. We are one minute behind you on intercept.

* * *

><p><strong>Orbital Traffic Control<strong>

**Star Dock #1**

**Reach**

"Sicilia, report." The current situation with Bogie 38 had been underway for a whole two minutes. The Duty Officer had contacted Reach Orbital Defense Command, informed them of the situation and his initial actions, they had been given the go ahead to deal with the situation.

"Sir, the _Questionable Morality_ has redirected their CAP, call sign Helios and launched a CSAR Pelican, call sign Pharaoh One. They are en-route, CAP intercept in one minute thirty seconds, CSAR intercept in two minutes thirty seconds. The _Questionable Morality_ has also launched their alert fighters which have taken up CAP duties, they have a backup CSAR team ready to launch. The _QM_ has also come about and has a firing solution locked on Bogie 38. There is still no contact with Bogie 38 and it is still on a collision course with this station. Bogie 38 will reach minimum IFF boundary in three minutes, collision with this station eight minutes at present course and speed."

"Understood. Patch me through on the COMM to the _Questionable Morality_, their intercept fighters, and the CSAR team."

"Understood, sir…wait one for COMM," Sicilia worked her control panel with precision and urgency, "Go ahead, sir."

"_Questionable Morality_, Helios Flight, and Pharaoh One; this is Star Dock One OTC. How copy?"

"_Questionable Morality_ copies."

"Helios Flight, copy."

"Pharaoh One, we read you."

"All units, confirm status." The Duty Officer had moved into 'the pit', Star Dock One's OTC command area, an area sunk below the level of the rest of the command deck. This is where all of the OTC controllers, COMM stations, and station operations consoles were located, a roughly circular area. The main OTC display showed a 2-D layout of the orbital space in sectors one and eight.

"_Questionable Morality_ confirms we are powered up and ready to intercept Bogie 38, firing solution locked, main weapons systems ready to fire."

"Helios Flight also confirms. We are on stable intercept course. Time on target one minute."

"OTC, Pharaoh One. Status confirmed. We are also on stable intercept course, time on target two minutes."

"OTC copies. Reach ODC has started clearing out all space traffic from sectors one, eight, and seven. Helios Flight, your orders are to intercept, assess the condition of Bogie 38, try to identify and make visual contact with the bridge. If you can make contact, get them to power down their engines, and remain where they are. Pharaoh One, be prepared to board Bogie 38 on my order and if necessary, take control of the ship. Once positive ID has been made, we will try to get you the command override codes for the airlocks and flight systems. _Questionable Morality_, if Helios and Pharaoh cannot complete their missions and Bogie 38 breaches the high orbit perimeter line, your orders are to use whatever means necessary to disable or destroy. All stations, confirm orders."

The _Questionable Morality_, Helios Flight, and Pharaoh One confirmed orders back to the OTC.

* * *

><p><strong>CSAR Pelican<strong>

**Call Sign: Pharaoh One**

**On Intercept Course with Bogie 38**

Jack had been monitoring the communications between OTC, the _Questionable Morality_, and Helios Flight. Presently he was standing in the back of Pharaoh One's cockpit; he turned and went into the troop bay to address the rest of Saber Red.

"Alright, you all have heard our orders. Let's get geared up and prepare for forced entry. I will take Tom and Dale, our call sign for this OP is 'Entry One'. We will head forward to the bridge and try to take control from there. Nigel, you take Naomi and Phil (1st squads newly assigned Air Force Pararescueman) and head aft. Your call sign is 'Entry Two'. Head aft and take control of the engine room. If I we can't get to the bridge or gain control from there, I will need you to do it from the engine room. If the ship is locked down, OTC will get us the command override codes. Engage the crew only if you have to. Let's go in light, suppressed subguns and sidearms. This isn't a UNSCDF ship, no telling how thin the hull is and I don't want us to start punching holes in it, the ship could explosively decompress, and these are supposed to be civies after all, they shouldn't put up much of a fight. Also, standard protocol for outer atmosphere OPS, we are going in with our suits fully sealed. Any questions?"

Nigel was the only one who spoke, "Why can't we get those command codes now. Why wait?"

"Good point, Nigel." Jack switched over his COMM from receive only so that he could transmit. "OTC, this is Saber Red One on the CSAR Pelican, OP call sign 'Entry One'. Can we get those command override codes now instead of later?"

"Entry One, OTC. We don't have a positive ID on Bogie three eight, when we do we will download the codes."

"Entry One, copy."

Jack rolled his eyes in his helmet and stared at the ceiling of the Pelican, 'Dear God in Heaven' he thought to himself. Not only because he should have thought of that first, but because OTC didn't already have the information that would more than likely be needed.

* * *

><p><strong>Helios Flight<strong>

**In Formation Around Bogie 38**

"All stations, this is Helios One One, we are coming up on Bogie three eight." Helios flight, still running engines at max burn locked their targeting computers onto Bogie 38, calculated it's speed, their speed, distance to target, rate of closure, and came up with a breaking trajectory and delta-v to arrest their momentum and bring them alongside the ship.

"Helios Flight, this is lead. Retrograde maneuver: Cut engines to thirty percent, do a 180 flip, hold at thirty percent for fifteen seconds. This should bring us right alongside Bogie three eight. Initial vector over the top of it and then Helios' thirteen and fourteen take position on her port side, twelve and I will take starboard. How copy?"

The three other XYSS-1000 Sabre Space Superiority Fighters confirmed with green acknowledgement lights in Helios One One's HUD. "Initiate retrograde maneuver in five…four…three…two…one!" The four experimental prototype star fighters zoomed over the bow and bridge and past the stern of Bogie 38, cut their thrusters and flipped, once the momentum that was carrying them on their original trajectory had been mostly cancelled out, they increased power to catch up to and then match speed with the ship, the four-ship flight breaking off into two-ship groups and taking their designated positions port and starboard.

"All stations, Helios One One, the stern of the ship, just forward of the engine cowlings is venting gas. Looks like drive coolant. Sensors indicate it is radioactive. Standby. Helios Flight, run spectral imaging of the hull." Helios One One again received acknowledgement lights from the rest of the flight.

Five seconds later, Helios One One got back on the COMM, "Alright, Bogie three eight's entire hull is irradiated. From amidships to the stern she is red hot. Amidships forward is hot, but the rad count is within tolerances for the entry team assuming that have radiation resistant suits on."

"This is OTC, copy. Is there a registration number on the hull?"

"Standby OTC." Helios One One edged his star fighter forward to get a look at the bow of the ship, just under the starboard bow airlock, Helios 11 spotted the ship's registration number. "OTC, Helios, registration number follows…Uniform November Sierra Charlie dash Three Eight Four Two Niner Seven One…how copy OTC?"

"Good copy." Lieutenant Sicilia Hernandez, the OTC controller that had been tracking Bogie 38 since the beginning of this situation queried the UNSC registration database. "Bogie three eight is registered as a UNSC Naval Reserve bulk cargo and passenger vessel, launched as _Twilight Dreamer_ in 2515, reported lost in 2521."

* * *

><p><strong>CSAR Pelican<strong>

**Call Sign: Pharaoh One**

**On Intercept Course with Bogie 38**

"Entry One, OTC. Standby for download. OTC out."

Jack stared at his HUD, in the center of his field of view, text popped up: INCOMMING CONNECTION…CONNECTION ACTIVE…RECEIVING DATA STREAM_ _ _. At the end of the last bit of text the underscore cursor was blinking and then suddenly a download progress bar started creeping from left to right under the text. DOWNLOAD COMPLETE. EXTRACTING DATA. Jack stored the command codes in his helmet software's high speed buffer so that he could have immediate access to it and then retransmitted it to the rest of Red. Now that the identity of the ship was known, OTC, with the command codes, downloaded a schematic of the ship to Jack. Of course, OTC had signed off, guess they didn't like talking to 'grunts', figures. Jack flipped his COMM back over to 'receive only' on the open channel, he didn't cut it as Entry One and Two would be using this open channel during the operation so that everyone stayed on the same page.

"Red, you heard Helios. The ship is hot and too hot to go aft and try to take the engine room. We are still splitting up; we are docking on the starboard side." Jack brought up the schematic and found what he was looking for, port and starboard passageways to the bridge. "Entry One will progress up the starboard side to the bridge, Entry Two, make your way to the port side and then to the bridge, everybody keep an eye on their rad meters and everyone take anti-radiation meds now. Additionally, everybody keep an eye out for Captain Sanborne. This is the ship he was supposed to be on. If you find him, assess his condition and report immediately."

"Isabella, Entry One. I need Captain Sanborne's locator beacon's frequency, now."

"Standby, transmitting. Be aware Entry team; ambient radiation will interfere with the locator beacon's transmission. Also, standard protocol for a radiation leak of this type is to seal all bulkheads in an attempt to contain the spread. You will probably need to cut through a few doors to get to the bridge. As soon as you are in, find a remote terminal with an access port and plug in a remote uplink, I will try to hack into the ship's systems and see if I can get some doors open for you."

"Understood." Sergeant Crandon, the team's Pararescueman went to the Pelican's med kid and took out six auto-injectors, while the rest of the team was taking off their helmets and injecting themselves with anti-radiation dosages in the neck, Jack went over to an equipment trunk in the troop bay, opened it and took out four handheld plasma torches and the aforementioned uplink. He stashed the small uplink in an empty pouch on his chest webbing and passed out the torches, two per team.

Presently Sergeant Crandon, standing behind Jack, tapped him on the left shoulder. "Your dosage, Sergeant?"

Jack popped the seals on his helmet, removed it and bared his neck, "Hit me."

The Pararescueman carefully inserted the needle into Jack's neck, hit the button on the end of the device and pumped 10cc of anti-radiation meds right into a thyroid gland.

The Pelican had finally intercepted the _Twilight Dreamer_ and performed a deceleration move similar to the one completed by Helios Flight.

"Helios Flight, Pharaoh One. We are ready to close for boarding," Lieutenant Natalie Zimmer informed them over the COMM.

"Copy, Pharaoh. Helios Two, lets back off and make some room." The two XYSS-1000 Sabers adjust their position to high starboard so the Pelican could come in low, below the center line of the ship and maneuver to latch on to the airlock halfway between amidships and the bow.

"Entry Teams, standby for docking," Pharaoh One maneuvered her Pelican adjacent to the round airlock. As she moved closer she noted the four red status lights on the hull around the docking port.

"Pharaoh One, the airlock is on security lockdown. We are going to use the command codes and query the dock control, hold on." Lieutenant Zimmer addressed her co-pilot, "Calvin?"

"On it." The co-pilot brought up the command override codes on his left display, and a remote link to the ship on his center display. He selected the airlock control menu, it prompted him for a airlock number. "El-tee, what is the number on that airlock?"

"Zero Three"

"Got it, processing…command codes accepted, airlock dock control responding."

From her pilot's seat she could see the red status light blink over to green, "Lights are green, we are docking." She toggled the Pelican's RCS thrusters and rotated ninety degrees to starboard, the bottom of the Pelican was now facing the hull of the _Twilight Dreamer_. Pharaoh One activated the Pelican's dorsal RCS thrusters and closed with the hull of the ship.

"Contact…hard dock. Thompson, seal the cockpit. The troop bay is going to get flooded with radiation as soon as we open our airlock."

Chief Warrant Officer Calvin Thompson, co-pilot of CSAR Pelican Pharaoh One hit the controls to seal the cockpit from the troop bay. The door rapidly slid shut and his controls indicated positive seal, pressure stable. "Adjusting troop bay to match the pressure readings I am getting off the _'Dreamer_'s airlock sensors."

Pressure in the troop bay adjusted, not that the Entry Team noticed anything in their sealed suits, other than the readings in their HUDs changing.

"Disabling artificial gravity in the _Dreamers_ airlock, disengaging troop bay artificial gravity. Opening troop bay airlock." The Cav troopers in the back of the Pelican floated off the deck and pushed themselves out of the way of the blood tray's hatch. The hatch split down the middle with one half recessing into the forward hull and the other to aft. The entry team looked down, through the hatch at the outer airlock door on the _Dreamer_.

"Opening airlock." Thompson worked the controls at his station in the Pelican's cockpit.

"Stand Ready!" Jack positioned himself on the roof of the Pelican's troop bay squared off with the airlock door on the runaway ship, raised his M7S Caseless Suppressed Submachine Gun, firmly seating the stock in the middle of his chest. He flipped his HUD over to a tactical display and smartlinked it to the sights on the weapon.

The airlock door on the _Dreamer_ parted down the middle and then slammed open. Jack immediately accessed the interior of the airlock. No targets.

"ENTRY TWO…GO!" Entry Team Two pulled themselves through the airlock in weightlessness, one by one gliding into the empty airlock.

The members of Entry Two sounded off almost in unison, "CLEAR!"

"TEAM ONE…GO!" Entry Team One entered the airlock in the same fashion as team two, Jack being the last one through.

"Pharaoh, seal the airlock doors and re-engage gravity."

The airlock doors on both the Pelican and the _Twilight Dreamer_ slid shut at the same time.

"All Stations, Entry Team Leader. We are in and secure. Beginning sweep."

* * *

><p><em>Hi folks! Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, my priorities have had to shift a little bit...you know...that life thing!<em>

_As always, constructive criticism would be high appreciated as would reviews._

_This fanfic, in a richer content format is still available at h t t p : / / s i t e s . g o o g l e . c o m / s i t e / s a b e r s i x a c t u a l / h o m e. The link is also available in my profile on this site._


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